The Confusion of a Rock
by Coffee Grounds
Summary: Eragon finds a rock that isn't a rock. A innocent tree is abused and retaliates. Arya confesses her annoyanceamusement with Eragon's past feats in a rather long F.B. Delirium, chaos, and all things made of pickle seeds rule in this hopelessly random fic.
1. Chapter 1

Hereis the complete summary: ...Eragon finds a rock, that isn't a rock. A innocent tree is abused...and retaliates. Arya confesses her annoyanceamusement with Eragon's past performance in a rather long flashback. Delirium, chaos, and all other things made of pickle seeds rule in this hoplessly random fic. READ...NOW!

Chapter One:

On On a clear twilight night, the only thing interrupting the silence was the whiz-pop of the fire and the crickets chirping in the background. Eragon leaned back against a large oak tree and sighed.

_Saphira... _

_**Yes? **_

_I'm so bored, and I don't even know what we're doing here, even though the scenery is kind of nice. _

Many trees surrounded the foursome, as if the trees were cold and trying to get warm. Orik was sharpening his blade against the numerous rocks dotting the trees, and Arya was picking wild herbs at the edge of the campfire.

Saphira replied:

_**Yes, it does seem strange that we're here, and not fighting something, or some one. **_

_ARGHHHHHH! I'm so bored, I think I'm going to play this Sodoku game just sitting here. _

_**What? **_

_It's a math game and uses a lot of numbers too._

_**Sounds fun. **_

_Saphira, what's 16 + 14? _

_**How should I know, I never went to school. You're the one that Oromis has been tutoring in those areas. **_

_You're right. Why can't I figure this out? _

Eragon banged his head on a rock in frustration, causing Orik and Arya to look up in surprise.

"I'm trying to figure out this stupid math problem, and I don't know how to add!" Eragon whined.

"Well, you probably should of thought of that before you picked up the game," Arya stated.

"Can you help me?" Eragon pleaded, giving Arya the puppy dog look.

Arya's POV

Argh! Why does he always use that stupid baby look on me? It's just math! I'm glad I turned down someone so stupid!

"No," said Arya in a flat tone.

"Why are you so cruel?" Eragon whimpered, tears coming to his eyes as he stalked off to find Saphira.

_**Little one, are you allright?**_ Sapira's voice emanated concern.

_No, Arya's so mean, she won't even help me with my math problem! _

_**You should've listened to Oromis when he taught you all this. **_

_It's not my fault I have ADD! _

Saphira blocked off their connection after that, leaving Eragon to sulk in silence.

Grumbling under his breath, Eragon wound his way through the trees, and that's when he saw it.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the reviews!

It was fluffy, whitish-yellow, and a tantalizing smell was wafting from its core. '_What's this?' _Eragon thought, puzzled. He walked to a crevice in a pile of rocks and picked up an irregular shaped object. 'This is a strange rock,' Eragon mused as he examined it more closely. A buttery like aroma filled his nostrils and his stomach grumbled, a reminder that he hadn't had anything to eat.

'What **_is_** this thing?' Eragon thought, alarmed that a rock should smell and look this good. Remembering Oromis' lessons, he recited a poem devised especially for this task:

'_When one comes upon something strange and unidentifiable, _

_The five senses are the most reliable: _

_Look upon the object with a logical eye, _

_Heed any warnings, and ask questions: why? _

_Who? What? When? Where? and How? _

_Will be of most use to you now, _

_A keen nose picks up an outlandish scent, _

_And will have a puzzle solved before the day is spent, _

_A powerful mind is useful and sensitive, _

_But when enemies are around, be apprehensive, _

_This last sense cannot be proceeded with haste, _

_Therefore use caution when you taste.' _

'Let's see,' Eragon thought, 'The rock is fluffy and puffed up looking, as if it had just exploded. It might be dangerous if it explodes again. There doesn't seem to be anyone in the area, so it must have fallen out of a traveler's pocket on the way here...That rules out the Who, Why, and Where and How. But still...What is it? It has a smell like that of melted butter...' Muttering, Eragon directed the scent towards him with his hands, waving them around to propel the scent to him. 'And not butter like the elves use...Or the butter in Carvahall...' Eragon frowned, 'Or, anywhere else I've been.' Hmm... Eragon slowly lowered the barriers on his mind and reached out to touch the rock. He gained thus: heat, lots of heat, core cracking, flames searing, fluffy yellowness, want to pop, must pop, HEAT, pop, pop, pop, pop, Pop, Pop, POP, EXPLOSION—cool down, calm down, greasy butter, fall down, down, down on the floor.

Eragon restored the barriers on his mind, puzzled. The last was taste, and after all, it didn't seem _that_ dangerous...  
'Well, maybe if I just take one bite...' Eragon mused as he gingerly tasted the end fluff.

Eragon's eyes flew wide open in shock, '_It...It's GOOD!'_ Eragon's taste buds exploded in a wave of buttery, salty, warm and moist, fresh fluffishness.

'Yum.'


	3. An Awkward Situation

**Disclaimer**: Sorry for not putting this up for the last two chapters, but don't sue me because you know I don't own Eragon/Eldest characters and you're wasting your time...yadda, yadda, yadda.

_Hmm...I wonder where I can get some more?_ Eragon thought, while surveying his surroundings. Tufts of grass dotted the area, crawling up the trees like ivy. Bright flashing colors poked through the forest in the distance, and the pile of mossy rocks where he found the fluffy morsel gleamed in the sunlight.

_Ooooooo...Pretty colors. I want to touch it! _Eragon raced towards the bright flashing colors, all the while thinking, _Prettyprettypretty..._ Eragon was so focused on the 'pretty colors' that he didn't notice when a tree came in his path and attacked him.

Eragon skidded back ten feet and fell flat on his butt, his vision swimming in circles.

"Whoa...what was that for?" He asked the tree angrily, shaking his fist.

The tree didn't answer.

That sure is one rude tree, Eragon thought. He advanced on the tree, and shouted, "Just who do you think you are?" Again the tree didn't answer.

_Why doesn't the tree answer?_ Eragon thought, thoroughly put out. "Stupid tree!" he grumbled, and leaped forward, delivering a blow to the middle of the tree.

Well, this didn't do anything to help. All Eragon got was a severe pain in his foot. Eragon howled, cursing in both languages, hopping up and down and banging into the other trees around him. Eragon tripped on a loose root, and did a sort of pirouette before falling flat on his face, sore toe and all.

Eragon spat out dirt and leaves, muddied all over and glared at the tree.

"I'll teach you a lesson!" Eragon bellowed and put his palm out, gedewy ignasia tingling.

"_Brisingr_!"

At the last second, a mirror popped out of the tree, bouncing the spell light back towards Eragon, and throwing him a thousand feet in the air, backwards, towards the pile of rocks.

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-heywaitI'mflying!-HHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

The pile of rocks weren't your average pile of rocks. They piled up on top of each other and led to a pyramid like formation. At the top, there was a deep hole that led who knows where underground.

Eragon fell at an alarming rate, smack down, right into the hole.

Eragon looked around him, thinking, _Well that wasn't so bad_. When the dust and rubble had cleared, he glanced anxiously around him and groaned.

He had landed, butt first, into the hole, and was in an awkward predicament. His body was curved up in a 'U' formation, with his feet and shoulders almost parallel to each other. There were worse things. A gash had erupted across his shoulders, and was bleeding profusely.

Before he slipped into unconsciousness, Eragon realized something that would complicate the situation even more. Something that would be a source of hilarity for the tree, (if it could laugh), and the author. Shoulder throbbing, and dizziness engulfing him, Eragon's last thought was:

_I'm stuck._

Hahaha! Eragon's stuck in a pile of rocks!

Hate it? Love it? Comments? Review!


	4. An Herby Memory

**Disclaimer: I don't own any Eragon/Eldest characters, just the plot for this story and an extremely P/O-ed tree. I also don't own any Mark Twain expressions or phrases.**

_Back at the camp..._

Arya huddled closer to the meager fire they had managed to kindle under the eaves of the cave, thinking, '_I wonder where Eragon is?_'

She felt confused after Eragon had stalked off in a huff about a simple math problem. He was so impatient, and quick to ask for help when logically he could just figure out the problem by himself.

_He's acting so strange these days, _she mused and scanned the forest for any signs of movement, remembering the last 'episode' Eragon had...

The group had been hiking up a craggy cliff in search of a strange herb that Angela had been running low on. Arya had already been in a bad mood, for the herb had, as Angela disclosed in an agitated whisper, "Why, Arya! Mercywort is a very useful herb to have! I could simply not do without it!"

When Arya had pressed her for information about the uses of Mercywort, and why it was so important that they got the herb NOW, Angela said:

"Mercywort provides a tingling sensation in the abdominal regions, the bottom of the instep region, the armpit region, the lower mandible region, and underneath the fleshy cartilage that promotes sound."

"WHAT?" Arya shouted, clearly peeved that Angela wouldn't give her an answer that she could comprehend, (again).

Angela looking rather miffed, replied, "Also known as Paresthesia---"

"ANGELA, IF YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT THIS PIECE OF CRUD DOES---"

"—which induces high central nervous system stimulation in the afore mentioned areas—"

"—I'M GOING TO TAKE ONE OF YOUR TOADSTOOLS—"

"—and impulsive chortling, (By the way, it's frogstools, my dear)—"

"—AND SHOVE IT—"

"—accompanied by frenzied movement—"

"—UP YOUR—"

"—commonlyknownastickling." Angela finished hurriedly.

Arya stood, mouth a gape, about to scream an obscenity, absolutely shocked.

"Tickling, my dear, tickling." Angela said, impatient at Arya's dumbness.

(A/N): Not dumb as in stupid, dumb as in unable to speak.

Arya closed her mouth with a snap and fixed Angela with a beady glare.

"Mercywort, also known as _abomenalia pokishneunim_, induces tickling throughout the body where nerves of high numbers are contained."

Arya crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

"_That's_ why you have to get Mercywort NOW," Angela finished triumphantly.

Arya took a deep breath and exploded, "WHYSHOULDICAREABOUTATICKLINGHERBTHATDOESN'THELPANYONE!"

(Translation: Why should I care about a tickling herb that doesn't help anyone!)

Angela stepped away from the distraught elf and started puttering around her tent, replying, "Mercywort, when mixed with certain poisons, or other herbs, is very dangerous, and highly effective when administered properly. The herb by itself is harmless. But when mixed, the herb's properties are warped and, as you say, 'scrambled', into something of darker portents.

When administered with poison, the herb begins to work its effects immediately. The victim starts to laugh hysterically, and without reason, when, first, his/her feet start feeling 'ticklish'. Meanwhile, the poison dulls the feelings in the feet while the victim is laughing.

As the victim starts feeling ticklish in other areas, moving upward from the feet, the poison dulls those senses too. Lastly, the victim feels ticklish right near the neck, and the poison slowly cuts off the artery from the brain to the heart..."

Arya stared, "And?"

Angela started mashing rosemary in a small bowl, and busied herself before answering, "The victim, having ingested the Mercywort, is still busy laughing while all body functions shut down."

Arya's eyes went wide with realization, and said shakily, "You mean—"

Angela turned an about face to Arya and replied in a low tone,

"Yes, the victim literally dies laughing."

Arya's breath caught in her throat and gazed at the herbalist warily before saying, "Where is this herb to be found?"

Angela replied, surprisingly cheerful again, "Oh, it's just a short walk up some cliffs called 'Dramur Wyrda'."

(A/N): Translates into 'Dream Fate'. (Working with limited resources here.)

Arya sighed, rather exasperated, "All right, I'll go."

(A/N): Okay, so I haven't finished Arya's flashback thingy _yet_. And, I don't know if 'Paresthesia' actually is the right term, and I just made up the medical term for tickling since I couldn't find it anywhere, and Mercywort, but whatever...

If you want more, review! If you hate it, review! Any suggestions? REVIEW ALREADY!


	5. Dwarves are Drunk

**(A/N): About the ADD thing in the first chapter...no offense to anyone...I should know, I probably have ADD too...and on with the show!**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any Eragon/Eldest characters, just the plot, a P/O-ed tree, and Mercywort.

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Arya had rounded up a very disgruntled Orik, (who had been conversing cheerily with his dwarven comrades), and told him of the mission Angela had assigned.

At first, Orik had bellowed a bunch of nonsense words, dwarven curses, and remarks of the stupidity of the quest so loud that Arya had almost stumbled backward. Arya thought about threatening Orik's fiancée if he didn't go, but, decided not to. Hvedra and she got along fine, sparring the occasional round, laughing over various episodes in their youth. Besides, she needed Orik's tracking skills. And, from Hvedra, she learned that Orik had ingested Mercywort when they were young, and had laughed for hours. His experience would be necessary.

Arya looked Orik square in the eye and said flatly, "It's either you help me look for Mercywort, or no more faelnirv at those Saturday night parties that you've been throwing with the dwarves."

Orik blanched, "WHAT? But Hvedra and I were planning something with a lot of beer! That fancy elvish drink of yours was going to be the topping of the night!"

Arya spun on her heel, recognizing triumph when she heard it, "You heard me, no herb, no faelnirv."

Orik cursed in dwarvish and walked away, muttering under his breath, "No faelnirv, HA! Blasted elves with all their thrice blasted trickery! If she doesn't get that faelnirv..." Orik muttered, "I'll—"

Arya suddenly popped up in front of him, emerald eyes twinkling, "Do what exactly what Mr. Dwarf?"

Orik jumped about four feet in the air and had popped his axe out of its sheath, yelling an ancient war cry before he realized it was only Arya.

Orik glared at Arya, breathing heavily, "Don't EVER—EVER do that—AGAIN! Or—or—or I'll—"

Orik sputtered out of breath, trying to resume his slew of threats under the presence of Arya grinning with an amused air.

"Jumpy, aren't we, Orik?" Arya asked.

Orik folded his arms over his chest and gave Arya a death scowl so fierce Arya could have sworn that the daisies behind her withered and died.

Arya grinned again and flounced away, saying as she went, "I would hate for that party of yours to not have sufficient drink to have its attendants thoroughly drunk, wouldn't you, Mr. Dwarf?"

Orik gave another scowl at Arya's retreating back, (though, not as fierce as the death scowl as he gave Arya earlier), and said to himself, "How did she know about the parties we have every week?"

Orik shook his head and trotted off to his tent to pack.

Arya shook her head at the last statement, thinking, _The thing about dwarves, after a battle fought and won, you can always count on them being somewhere close to a tankard. How predictable._

"Hail, Arya!" A cheerful, familiar shout rose up from behind her. Arya turned around and saw Eragon standing their, chocolate eyes dancing merrily.

"Guess what?" Eragon inquired mischievously.

"What?" Arya asked, exasperated.

"No really, guess." Eragon started spinning around, interrupting his spins with random handstands.

"You got a new sword?" Arya guessed, only slightly curious to where this conversation was leading.

"No!" Came the reply from an upside-down Eragon. He grinned.

_Hmm, _Arya mused_, something must really be making him happy to take his mind off that, 1) Murtagh is his brother, and 2) Murtagh took his sword, meaning that 3) Eragon was now swordless._

"You cured Elva?"

"Haven't gotten around to that yet. Guess again!"

"You found the secret stock of faelnirv that the Varden is hoarding in the weaponry?"

"Oooo...now I know! Guess again!"

Arya mentally kicked herself, _Why me?_

Arya thought of the most nit-pick thing she could think of, and guessed,

"You got new socks?"

"No."

"You discovered that the cows are running out of milk and there will be no more chocolate anymore?"

"WHAT?" Eragon's brown eyes filled with tears, "No...chocolate?'

"Oops," Arya flushed, immediately feeling ashamed, "I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Eragon wailed, tears pouring like a broken-for-months-fountain-that-just-got-fixed-because-somebody-stuck-their-cat-in-the-drain-because-it-was-pooping-all-over-the-house down his cheeks, and collapsed onto his knees.

"WHY IS THIS WORLD SO CRUEL!" Eragon lamented.

Ayra hesitated for a second, then went over and gave Eragon a hug to console him.

(Collective Awwwww comes from the dwarven women who have nothing better to do save pick up Heineken from the boot dealer of the Varden)

The hug was so brief, that all Eragon felt was the soft sigh of someone's pine-needle-scented arms around his shoulders, and then nothing.

Eragon immediately stopped crying and wiped the tears from his eyes, gazing at Arya with confusion and hope.

"You—you hugged me." Eragon stated, as if unsure how to conduct his words into sentences.

Arya sighed.

Eragon gave her a look of complete puzzlement, and asked, "Why?"

This statement revealed a complex set of emotions deep from within Eragon's soul—so deep that Arya felt a stirring inside of her. Not like the one she had experienced while with Faolin, but a more sisterly feeling. A recognition of the fact that Eragon was _very_ young, and looking for love that had shunned him all his life. _Why?_ The question rang in he head again, and she understood. Eragon was looking for the love of a brother, a mother, and a father—and it seems—(at this Arya chuckled slightly—that he can confuse them easily. Arya looked down, _That's why he sought after me._

All this took the span of a second to assimilate—elves' brains work faster, after all—and Arya blinked and looked up at Eragon's face and said logically:

"Eragon, you were about to drown the entire Varden with the strength of your tears...I had to do _something_!"

It was true. The entire Varden army was afloat in a massive pool about four feet high. Roran was busy diving to the bottom of the "lake", and Nasuada was afloat on a twenty foot piece of driftwood, dangling her legs on the side of the raft while being pushed through the water by eight enormous Kull. Elva was butter-flying her was toward a man who seemed to be drowning, and was being chased by a harassed looking Angela and water-logged Solembum. Orik and his beer buddies were cursing up an army, (haha), as they all had hangovers and being doused with a colossal wave of tears while you're trying to drink off your hangover doesn't put you in the best mood. Though, while they were trying to drink off a hangover is still being questioned. Roran resurfaced, spluttering and gasping like a girl who's been dumped over e-mail, (Ooooo..burn).

He shouted, "Hey Eragon, I think I've found a plug! Who knew that the Burning Plains came with a drainage system, eh?" He was flourishing a discus sized piece of metal. "Let's see, it says: TO USE DURING AN EXTREME FLOOD OR WILD BOUT OF TEARS, TURN TO THE RIGHT AND PRESS DOWN WHILE TURNING. WARNING: LIMITED WARRANTY, IF DOES NOT WORK, THEN THAT JUST SUCKS FOR YOU."

Roran frowned, pondering over the ridiculously unnecessary label, and said, "If there's a warranty, then how—'

"It means, dear, that the owner's of the product are punking you and probably spending your crowns laughing about it over a tankard of mead," remarked Angela mildly, who was drifting by with a sleeping Elva in tow.

Roran wrinkled his brow and asked, "What does 'punked' mean?"

Orik heaved himself onto a cow floating by, (which shouldn't be there because without milk, cows are pretty useless, except for steak, smack lips), and yelled, "WELL THEN DON'T JUST STAND THERE LIKE AN IDIOT, PULL IT!—AND ANGELA--"

Angela turned around, "You rang?"

"—THE OWNERS WOULDN'T BE SITTING OVER A TANKARD OF MEAD, BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE ERAGON DILUTED IT ALL!" Orik said, finishing his last sentence with a bawl.

"You really shouldn't shout so much, dear, it's bad for your health," Angela observed drily.

Orik repositioned his grip on the floating cow and said gruffly, "I can't help it, what if Eragon ruined the last batch of beer?"

"Then buy some more, dummy," Arya muttered under her breath, as if that were the obvious solution, (which it was), before turning back to Eragon with an rather entertained air.

Eragon looked around sheepishly and said, "I..uh..guess I got carried away, huh?"

(MASSIVE UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR)

Arya didn't say anything, just arched an eyebrow and smiled.

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**(A/N): Allright...you know the drill, be nice and click the "Go" button, if you don't, muahaha, I'll make sure the cows run out of milk!**


	6. Oh Boyl'o boy

**Disclaimer: You should know what I own and don't own by now. If you don't then,...blows raspberries aimlessly...you...I don't own any Mark Twain phrases either so...blows raspberries...there...

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**Chapter 6: Oh Boyl'o boy**

Arya sighed, _Boys will be boys_, and looked over at her companion to see how he was faring.

Orik stared into space, giving the sky occasional dark looks. The once peaceful twilight night had turned gloomy with menacing thunderclouds and frequently loud claps of lightening. He had been sharpening his axe with a threatening air, occasionally throwing out remarks like, "Where in the world has that boy gotten himself now, do you suppose?"

* * *

"That boy" was in a daze, a world between unconscious awareness and the kind of sleep that you get from traveling in the back of a beat up pick up truck.

Rain fell down his high angled cheekbones as if someone had been repetitively dumping a bottle of water over his face, and his legs stuck out at awkward angles from their original position, being parallel with his chest.

Eragon stirred, and tried to open his eyes, which were stuck together with water.

He tried sitting up, and gave a loud groan, and his eyes rolled back into his head in pain. He looked down, almost cross-eyed, at his chest, and managed to squeeze out a pained, "Waise heill!"

The flesh knitted together seamlessly, and Eragon stopped throbbing with the tenderness of the sting.

He still looked like a wreck.

Shadows were under his eyes from lack of sleep and bruises dotted his body from where he had hit the rock and where the hail had pummeled him. His wet hair was plastered to his head, making his condition worsen, (the cold was biting), and making him look like that of a starved half-drowned dog with pointy ears.

The migraine Eragon was receiving felt like Roran was delivering one of his signature blows with his hammer to his head.

Eragon's head lolled back so that he could face the sky.

_Great, just great,_ Eragon grumbled to himself,_ First no more chocolate, then that pointless hike that gets me nowhere, then math problems, a tree, and NOW THIS! ARGHHHH!_

Eragon reviewed his situation:

He was stuck. In a pile of rocks. Because he P/O-ed a tree. Because he saw bright colors and had to investigated. Because he looked around after he tasted that fluffy buttery thing. Because he stalked off. Because he had math problems...

_Well_, Eragon mused, _at least I know why I'm here._

He could:

A) Shout for help.

B) Mind call Saphira and explain situation.

C) Stay there and hope somebody gets him.

D) Start up a conversation with the tree.

E) Get Cole out of the wheelbarrow.

F) Work on his Spench accent. (Spanish/French)

G) Ask that girl in the corner if she really is the passionate one. (From the song)

Eragon reviewed his list of choices.

_Nah,_ He thought,_ I don't want C), because I don't want to stay here. My Spench accent is hopeless, so no F). That girl is not the passionate one, I asked her at Orik's party last week. No G). Cole is such a lazy bum that he shall stay in that wheelbarrow forever. No E)._

Eragon thought for a moment and called out, "HELP!"

No answer.

"HELP!"

No answer.

Eragon thought and shouted,

"HELP! HELP! PLEASSSEEEE!"

Again, no answer.

"HELP MEEEEE! PLEASSEEEE! CALL ANYONE! THE FIRE DEPARTMENT, THE MEDIA, TOM CRUISE, THE FBI, THE CSI, THE ROUS's, PLEASE! JUST GET ME HELP!"

Eragon stopped, panting and was well out of breath by now.

And yet still, no answer came.

Eragon's head drooped,_ I guess the fire dept. is busy in the Burning Plains, and the media is always near Galbatorix._ Eragon scowled, _Stupid paparazzi lover. I don't think I could rely on Tom Cruise, he's always on some sort of impossible mission. I have no idea where al the rest of those acronyms _came_ from, but I do know that the ROUS's are always being busy..._Eragon puzzled, _...Well, being ROUS's._

So much for shouting for help.

"HEY YOU, TREE!" Eragon shouted at the tree, which was very far away.

The tree didn't answer.

Eragon sighed and flicked his mind towards Saphira's presence.

_HEY SAPHIRA!_

Saphira's voice came back, **_Little one, where have you been?_**

Eragon felt guilty at his own stupidness of not contacting her before.

Eragon replied, meekly, like a little child who had been caught with his hand near the cookie jar,_ Can you come and get me? _Eragon showed her a picture of the pile of rocks with him staring dejectedly at the sky.

Saphira, with a touch of amusement in her voice, replied, **_I'm already there._**

Eragon sighed with relief and let his head fall back on the rocks.

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R&R. NOW. Pleaseandthankyou. 


	7. Mutterings and Hiccups

Chapter 7: Mutterings and Hiccups

**Disclaimer: You should know by now what I own and don't own by now.

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Saphira maneuvered her great body deftly between the trees, frantic to get to Arya and Orik.

Arya looked up at the sky, and seeing no raindrops, punched the sleeping Orik on the shoulder and crawled out of the cramped cave.

Orik grunted, turned over and mumbled, "Orik wants a beer..." Arya sighed at her uncooperative companion and grabbed the pail of rainwater sitting nearby.

She heaved the bucket over to where Orik was trying to sleep.

Readying the bucket into a comfortable position, she unceremoniously tipped the bucket onto Orik's head.

Orik sat bolt upright and attempted to heave a big breath to bellow. Arya sped over to the other bucket of water and ran back, dumping the second bucket over Orik's head.

Orik, water lodged in his throat, exhaled, and coughed, much like a duck with peanut butter stuck in his throat would.

The effect was rather comical.

A dwarf man, wet from head to foot, shivering, coughing and sniveling, (much like a three year old with a cold would), in the chill morning breeze.

At that moment, Saphia lumbered into camp, to come upon a drenched and mutinous Orik and an Arya with a small, satisfied smirk etched across her swarthy elven features.

Saphia blinked, rather amused at the predicament, then remembering the situation at hand, said hurriedly, _Eragon has gotten himself into..._

Saphira hesitated, and Arya raised and eyebrow, so she continued.

_--a rather—_awkward_—predicament._

Arya grabbed a blanket from her pack and threw it at the muttering, (rather darkly, too), Orik. She said, "How so?"

Saphira proceeded to explain how far _into_ trouble, (trouble being the pile of rocks), and the state of his condition.

Arya had kept rather still and silent during Saphira's explanation, but when she reached the part about the pile of rocks, her stony facial expression cracked into a grin.

Which turned into a toothy smile.

Which turned into a broad 'watermelon' shaped row of pearly whites.

Which aroused a small chuckle from the back of Arya's throat.

Which turned into a small chortle of mirth.

Which turned into a bell of laughter.

Which prolonged into an expansive knee-slapping fit.

Which turned into a hearty guffaw, ending with Arya rolling around the camp, interrupting her rolls with small bouts of spasmic laughter.

When, the author got so annoyed about the extensive laughing scene that she thought about throwing Arya off the cliff, but that's another story...

Arya finally came to from her world of merriment and hilarity, and walked toward her pack, interrupted her walk with small hiccups.

Arya collected her pack, and slung it on Saphira's back, her amble around the campsite stopped short every few strides by a small _hiccup!_

Orik, already settled on Saphira's back, looked back at the hiccupping elf, and a slow, evil smile spread across his face. Oh yes, he was going to get back at Arya for that water stunt, oh yes indeed...

Arya clambered up Saphia's hindleg and swung herself gracefully into her seat, jumping when a hiccup suspended her climb.

Orik, still grinning rather evilly, looked at her.

Arya stared suspiciously back at him, "Wha-_hiccup!_-what?"

Orik turned around and said in a voice barely controlling glee, "Oh, nothing."

Saphira beat her wings impatiently, startling the two riding, _We'd be there by now, hurry up!_

Arya and Orik quickly fastened the straps anchoring them to the saddle.

Well, at least Orik fastened his straps.

Arya tried to.

Her mild hiccupping was now so out of control that she couldn't keep her hands steady save for the wild jolting of her problem.

She soon became frustrated, and Orik could almost see steam coming out of her ears.

Orik grinned, "Having trouble, princess?"

Arya gritted her teeth, cursing herself for dumping water all over what she knew, (from Hvedra, of course), was the best prankster in all of dwarven history. She replied, "Just fine," and muttered angrily so that Orik couldn't hear, "just FINE."

Orik saw how close the elf was to completely losing it, and said, rather exasperatedly, "Here, let me tie it."

Arya sat back and fumed, too busy berating herself for her foolish hiccupping that she didn't notice that Orik had tied an intricate system of knots over her feet, intertwining her boot-laces with the saddle knots.

Orik turned around and grabbed hold, slightly anxious about flying, and said, "Let's roll."

Saphira turned around in puzzlement, _I don't believe I'm familiar with that phrase. It's rather interesting though._

Orik grunted, "Famous line. Never mind. Let's fly, boys."

This time both Arya and Saphira inquired incredulously, "Boys?" _I am not a boy._

Orik moaned, covering his face in his hands, "Just GO!"

Saphira's enormous wings spread out, and the trio took off into the sunrise...

* * *

Eragon, meanwhile, had almost gone insane.

Not insane, mind you, as in taking leave of your wits.

Oh, NO.

Insane, as in completely LOSING them never to be found EVER. Good bye, Adios, Sianara, Horavou, (I CAN'T SPELL!), and all those good things.

Eragon had actually gone so far as to try again and strike up another conversation with the offending tree.

The tree, I'm sure, was very intent on the minor details of Eragon's childhood, (how he decided he was now a pig when he was five and went mucking around in the pig pen for a day before Garrow came out and threw him in the river), and other things...

When he first spotting shadowy movements among the trees, he thought he was double-hallucinating.

Double-hallucinating, because he was already hallucinating from lack of water and sun fever.

So, I guess hallucinating hallucinating. Anyways...

He heard voices arguing in loud tones, (he tried to discern, and eventually found thus a female and a male speaking, which he assumed to be Orik and Arya.)

Arya was saying, sounding highly irritated, "All I did was WAKE YOU UP!"

Orik growled back, "And it wasn't very DRY either."

Ayra's voice rose, "Well, you weren't going to get up anyhow, you stupid beerhead!"

"Am not!"

"Oh, and I suppose all those BOTTLES are just my imagination, ARE THEY?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The SCENT of beer is on your pillow!"

"ARE YOU SUGGESTING I SLEEP WITH BEER?"

"You might as well, everything else you tote around smell as though it's been doused with it."

The voices were coming closer, and Eragon craned his neck to make sure he wasn't dreaming, (and he'd been doing that a lot lately, of a warm bed, of cake, chocolate, of a sword, of chocolate, of Saphira, of chocolate...)

"ARRRRRRR!"

Arya and Orik came into view, with Orik's arms raised above his head in an angry gesture.

They were so deep in their 'discussion' that at first they didn't notice him.

"Arya, " Eragon croaked out, too weak to shout.

Arya backed away from Orik's raised arms and pinched her nose, "See, even your under arms smell like it. Have you been BATHING in it?"

"Arya!" Eragon managed to make his voice a little louder.

Orik lowered his arms and growled, glaring a fierce death glare at the mildly amused elf.

They stood like this for another few moments before Eragon broke the silence, assuming that he was dreaming, and said, "WHO'S-YOUR-DADDY?"

Arya and Orik jumped, spinning around at the same time and forgetting their anger of a few moments earlier.

They said in unison, Orik delighted, and Arya cautious, "ERAGON!"

Eragon's face was both red from sunburn and white from lack of food and water at the same time. A thin line of blood dripped out of his peeling nose. His brown hair was matted and dirty, almost black with filth.

His clothes were torn and dusty, but other than that, he seemed to be all right.

Save, the fact that his body was contorted at an impossible angle, in the hole, in the pile of rocks.

Orik moved forward, anxious and happy to greet his clan member and to check if he was okay.

Arya darted forward, catching hold of Orik's arm and commanded, "Wait, how do we know this is Eragon and not an imposter? Since Saphira can't get through these trees, how can we tell?"

Orik stopped his advance on Eragon and frowned, "You're right."

He thought for a moment, and called out to 'Eragon', "OI! YOU, BOY!"

Eragon, who's head was lolling madly, eyes staring blankly and grinning in an insane way, stopped and said, "I'm...SEXY!"

Arya slapped her hand head and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Orik groaned and said, "Yep, that's Eragon all right."

Arya moved closer, trying to discover the best way to pop Eragon out of the hole.

Eragon noticed her coming closer, and crooned, "Hey..bebe."

Arya went rigid, thinking,_ Oh, No!_

Eragon, rocking back in forth in the hole, and uttered, "How you doing?"

Arya, without thinking, reached over and slapped Eragon across the face.

Orik hooted and hollered, laughing at what a pair the two made.

Eragon looked as if she had said "No dessert after dinner." He said, "Ouch, c'mon, you know you want me!"

Arya, ashamed of hitting Eragon in his state, (when he was unlikely to remember anything anyone said until he was healed), sighed a quick, "No," and resumed trying to find a loose rock.

Eragon, completely forgetting about Arya already, (ADD in this state is NOT GOOD), rocked back and forth and sang, "Cos, if I was an Oscar Meyer Weiner..."

Arya and Orik looked at each other, then back at Eragon, a mixture of puzzlement, amusement, and curiosity on their faces.

Eragon lolled his head back towards Orik and Arya, his eyelids fluttering closed in sleep,

"...Everyone would be in love with me..."

* * *

(A/N): R&R. NOW! Pleaseandthankyou. :D 


	8. DisUnderstood Delirium

Chapter 8: Dis-Understood Delirium

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 7, smart ones. Oh, and I don't own any "The Little Rascals" stuff, too. Oh, and, don't own any POTC, or POTC 2 material either. But you should know that... :D

* * *

**

Arya turned around, muttering at the amazement of Eragon's sheer GENIUS.

(Genius being an offending statement.)

Eragon rolled his head back and forth on HIS rock in a state of wild delirium, pounding the stones around him and chanting, "Rocky, rocky, rocky, want to get OUT OF ROCKY! BAD ROCKY! ERAGON STUCK IN ROCKY!"

Eragon's eyes opened for a moment, understanding suddenly enlightening him, and bellowed, "BAD, BAD, ROCKY! ROCKY, ROCKY, ROCKY! ERAGON NO LIKE BAD ROCKY! ERAGON LIKE GOOD ROCKY! "

Eragon paused,

"SAPHIRA GOOD ROCKY! ERAGON LIKE SAPHIRA! ROCKY, ROCKY, ROCKY! ERAGON NO LIKE BAD ROCKY!"

Incensed, Eragon's pounding took up a wilder rhythm, and he was nearly screaming, "ROCKY, ROCKY, ROCKY! ERAGON NO LIKE ROCKY! ROCKY MUST _DIE!"_

Arya looked round at this fierce pronouncement, alarm flickering in her eyes.

Orik stopped his search for a massive branch in which he could lever Eragon out of the pile of rocks, and looked over in fear at the infuriated Rider.

Arya, afraid of adding fuel to Eragon's wild fury, whispered, "Eragon..."

Eragon was pounding the rocks so hard that when Arya saw his hands lift up for another blow, bruises dotted his fists.

Eragon started chanting in a lounder, more strained voice, "DIE, DIE, DIE! DIE, DIE, DIE! DIE, DIE, _**DIE**!_"

His voice echoed, bouncing off the offending rock, the offending tree, the offending elf, the offending dwarf, the offending cliff, the offending forest, the offending land, the offending, offending...

* * *

Saphira raised her head in the general direction of Eragon's shout, which reached her both physically and mentally, _Oh, no! Why haven't those two gotten him out yet!_

Saphira gave two, great flaps of her wings, sweeping the pine needles and leaves covering the forest floor everywhere.

She took off, a great blue arrow in the night sky...

* * *

Eragon's shouts reached a climax, and, his body on fire with pain, used it to fuel his magic. 

Arya, as if in slow motion, ran toward Eragon, shouting,

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_!"

Orik grabbed a branch, then thinking of the uselessness of it, dropped it and ran as fast as his stubby legs could carry him, shouting,

"WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The tree yelled,

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The rocks yelled,

"MOE! (CURLY AND LARRY), AND MOE!"

* * *

Sixty miles away, (Now you know why Arya was angry, sixty miles is a PAIN!), Angela snapped open a pickle seed, and got squirted with it's foul smelling and tasting pus. 

She shrieked in anger, for the pickle seed burned her skin, and shouted,

"GROSS!"

* * *

Saphira beat her wings faster, hearing the shrieking cries from not so far away. 

She turned her head toward Angela shrieking, and muttered to herself, _Silly human. Doesn't she know that pickle seeds are entirely useless everywhere, including this fanfiction?_

She looked up, shooting an accusatory glance at the sky.

* * *

The authoress was snoozing in her bed, a laptop lying open on her legs. 

She jumped, and read what she had written, and grabbed the pickle seeds sitting in a jar behind her and started to snack on them.

"Yum. I love pickle seeds."

She thought for a moment on words rhyming with, 'O', and excitedly stood up, upsetting the jar of pickle seeds, and shouted, "I'VE GOT IT! "

A disappointed look crossed her face and she sat hurriedly down, saying, "No, wait , I don't got it."

She stared into space, then a bizarre look came over her features, and she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

She grabbed the jar of pickle seeds, and began to do a little victory dance, singing,

"I GOT A PICKLE, I GOT A PICKLE, I GOT A PICKLE, HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY!"

She looked down, grabbed some pickle seeds, and popped them in her mouth, crunching them sporadically and frequently.

A dreamy look came over her face, and she stood there, munching on her pickle seeds.

* * *

Saphira stopped in mid-flight, and shouted angrily upwards, _ARE YOU DONE YET?

* * *

_

The authoress glared down at her laptop, and shouted just as loud, "NOT YET!"

A trace of glee came into her voice.

* * *

Saphira groaned and put her claws on her head, _NO, NO, NO! WE'LL BE STUCK HERE ALL NIGHT!

* * *

_

The authoress frowned, saying down into the laptop, "Technically speaking, it's still light out. So, you'll be here all day."

* * *

Saphira moaned and shouted, _SAME DIFFERENCE!

* * *

_

The authoress' frowned deepened, "Same difference? BUT THERE IS NO SAME DIFFERENCE!"

* * *

Saphira gritted her razor sharp teeth together, making grinding noises aggressive enough to scare off an avalanche, or maybe someone's late night snoring. 

_It's just a saying. Stop using logic, and get GOING already!

* * *

_

The authoress whimpered, "But I'm not a literal thinker. I can't think literally. I'm a logically literal thinker. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

* * *

Saphira looked with apprehension at the sky, _Oh No!_

All that happened was a downpour of pickle seeds, (the authoress spilled them, AGAIN!) in which Angela, sixty miles away, became increasingly furious and started screaming curses at the sky.

_Whew, glad that's over, _Saphira glided around the treetops, anxious to find her rider.

* * *

"Oh no you don't, " The authoress muttered, picking up the pickle seeds, "I'm telling the story." 

The author turned on the T.V., and promptly forgot about Saphira in the excitement of the football game.

Glad to say, her team won.

"WA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the authoress shouted, glee making her dance in circles until she was dizzy around the room.

The authoress' sister came in, took one look at the screen, and at her sister dancing, and walked away, muttering, "What a WEIRDO!"

The authoress took no notice, and grabbed the jar of pickle seeds, holding them above her head in triumph, "TOUCHDOWN!"

She slammed the jar of pickle seeds, as if imitating a football, on the floor, where they burst everywhere, scattering under all the hard to reach places.

The authoress gasped in horror, frantically searching through the ruined seeds, "Where is it? Where's the thump-thump?"

The authoress then paused, "HEY, WAIT A MINUTE..."

She sat back against the couch and crossed her arms over her chest, a pouty expression covering her face, and said, "I want my jar of pickle seeds."

* * *

Saphira sighed in relief, circling lower and lower. 

Finally, she spotted it.

A great rock pile, jutting out of the earth like some sort of ear, but in pyramid shaped form.

A figure was lying prone, stuck in the hole on the top of the rock pyramid.

Two other figures were frantically scrambling up the craggy rocks.

Saphira beat her wings faster, and faster, summoning the ball of fire in the back of her throat...

* * *

"_Brisingr!"_ Eragon screeched, at the same time as Saphira hurled gallons of fire at the rock from her maw. 

Saphira quickly stopped the fire, seeing that it was Eragon, and safely crashed into some small trees rooted innocently nearby.

Arya and Orik were lifted and thrown away from the path of Eragon's fire.

The rocks exploded everywhere, and Eragon, finding that he no longer had a bunch of rocks to support him, said, suddenly exhausted, softly, "Oh."

He dropped out of the sky.

Saphira, battling the furious inactive trees, wasn't there to catch him...

...As he fell onto a soft bed of kernels, and collapsed, motionless...

* * *

(A/N): R&R...NOW! Pleaseandthankyou. 


	9. Nuisances and Chaos

Chapter 9: Nuisances and Chaos

Disclaimer: See Chapter 8. And, if you see something that doesn't LOOK like it would be mine, it probably ISN'T.

* * *

Recap: 

_Saphira, battling the furious inactive trees, wasn't there to catch him..._

_...As he fell onto a soft bed of kernels, and collapsed, motionless...

* * *

_

Saphira roared, and fought her way out of the inactive trees, trying to get to her Rider.

Arya and Orik were hanging from the limbs of a tall oak, slightly dazed.

When they saw Eragon, like a kernel king in the bed of seeds, they quickly climbed down and ran over. (Well, they tried to climb down, Arya was still hiccupping, and Orik was well, Orik. Arya tried to jump, hiccupped in mid air, and fell out of the tree. Orik just fell.)

Saphira, not wanting to touch the kernels, reached her nose out as far as it would go, trying to get to her Rider.

But, alas, she couldn't.

The pit was so deep, and so full of kernels, it was amazing that Eragon wasn't sinking down as we speak. Well, type, but whatever.

Arya had grabbed the coil of rope that she had brought with her, and tied it around the nearest furiously inactive tree.

Orik caught on to her bright idea and held the knot in place, as Arya tied the other end of the rope around her middle.

Arya ran forward, and just as she was about to jump into the pit, the coil of rope came short, and Arya was jerked irresistibly backwards.

Arya struggled up again, ears burning as Orik's hearty laughter floated through the trees.

She marched forward to the edge of the pit, and found that she could put her toes just on it and lean forward a little, putting enough tension on the rope to almost make it break.

Which, unsurprisingly enough, it did, and Arya fell into the pit...

* * *

The authoress finished writing the last sentence, and, thoroughly satisfied, leaned back on her bed. 

She looked around, and saw that something was missing.

Sitting up, she yelled, "WHERE THE HECK ARE MY PICKLE SEEDS!"

The shout brought her sister running, and she said, "You dashed them everywhere, remember?"

The authoress turned red in the face, "No, I don't remember."

The sister sneered, "Then, why don't you get a memory implant, GENIUS?"

The authoress sneered back, "There's no such thing, SMART ONE!"

The sister sneered, (again), "Yes, I am rather smart, aren't I?"

The authoress smirked and said, "Oh yeah? Last time I checked, Bob the Goldfish and Paris Hilton were smarter than you, and that's saying something."

The sister, looking outraged, said, "If YOU'RE so SMART, then why don't you remember that you smashed your pickle seeds on the floor?"

The authoress' lip trembled, and she cried, "MAMA, I WANT MY JAR OF PWICKLE SEEDS! WA-HAAAAAAAAAA!"

The sister smirked, "You are such a WEIRDO!"

The authoress wiped her eyes as the 'MAMA' came in with another jar of pickle seeds.

The authoress leapt up, and shrieked, all evidence of crying gone, "YEA, PICKLE SEEDS! YOU'RE BACK!"

The authoress proceeded to squeeze the life out of a pickle seed, and it fell on top of the bed.

And then IT died.

The authoress was too busy crunching on the pickle seeds, making furious smacking noises.

The same sister walked in again, and said, loudly, "You're WEIRD!"

The authoress glared and hugged the jar of pickle seeds closer, "Don't be a hata!"

The sister wrinkled her nose, then asked, "Can I have some?"

The authoress hugged the pickle seed jar even tighter, "Back off, you INFERIOR gold fish brain, you. Get your own."

The sister glared and muttered, stalking off, "WEIRDO!"

The authoress crunched down on a particularily satisfactory pickle seed, and called, "VERY impressive lack of vocabulary you have there. Seems like you can only say 'weirdo' and be a hata! I think Paris Hilton even did better than you! She has TWO words in her vocabulary!"

The sister turned back, face twisted in curiosity, "Really, what two words, WEIRDO!"

The authoress spat some pickle seed juice at her, which she dodged, ("Missed, AGAIN!")

She replied, "That's Hot!"

The sister stalked off in a huff, upset that that Paris bested her own meager vocabulary.

The sister came back to the mildly munching author, and said, "Oh, YEAH? Well—you're a WEIRD weirdo!"

Satisfied, the sister turned away, not before the author got her two cents in, "Oh, yeah, That's Hot..." She broke off, then grinned, "And you're NOT!"

The sister gasped, "WHAT?"

The authoress picked up another pickle seed, and said, "I know! She even RHYMED!"

The sister looked awed, "Wow."

The authoress continued, "Yeah, so the media's probably going to give her lots of attention for being the new Dr. Seuss of Hollywood or something."

The sister stomped away in a huff, muttering, "But what rhymes with 'WEIRDO'?"

The authoress chuckled and threw the pickle seed in the air, catching it in her mouth.

* * *

Orik jumped in after Arya thinking, _If we're all going to die soon, we might as well do it together.

* * *

_

Arya fell in, thinking, _I hope this is a soft landing.

* * *

_

Eragon couldn't think. He was too out of it. He was so out of it, you could of whiffed a latte mocha with twelve shots of expresso, whipped cream with chocolate and cinnamon sprinkles under his nose and he wouldn't even of gotten up.

* * *

Saphira, some of the remnants of the last flame she tried to cause still in the back of her throat, and SNEEZED from the massive amounts of nose itching powder the furiously inactive trees were giving off.

* * *

And then, the whole area burst into flame...

* * *

Sitting in her room, the authoress yelped as the pickle seed she was throwing up in the air caught fire and went down her throat. 

Luckily, the authoress wasn't badly burned...

Unluckily, the authoress choked on the pickle seed, and lay gasping for air.

The afore mentioned sister trounced into the room, took one look at her gasping sister, and yelped, "OMG! YOU'RE CHOKING!"

When the authoress made a pleading gesture with her hands, the sister gave a grimace of disgust, saying, "WHAT A WEIRDO!" and walked around and SLAMMED the authoress in the square of the back.

The good news is the authoress stopped choking, and spat the burning pickle seed.

The bad news is that the pickle seed was still on fire.

And on the carpet.

And the sisters were just STARING at it.

The authoress glanced worriedly at the burning pickle seed, and said, "Waddle we do?"

The sister gave the pickle seed a look of apprehension, and replied tonelessly, "Dunno."

They stayed like that for another long five seconds, then turned in unision and simultaneously looked at each other, and said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The sister said, "Pour a gallon of gasoline on it and see if it goes away?"

The authoress said, "Throw it at the wall and see if it sticks?"

The sister said, "Great idea!" and threw the bucket of gasoline she was hiding behind her back at Barney the Dinosaur, who caught on fire and died.

The authoress threw the burning pickle seed at the wall, and it STUCK!

Then IT died.

The sisters took another five seconds staring at it, then the author turned to the sister and said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The sister's face lit up with an evil grin, "I THINK so."

The authoress smiled back at the sister, and they stood like that for another fifteen seconds, staring with identical evil expressions. Then, the authoress turned to the pickle jar, picked it up, and said,

"Pickle seed?"

"I swear we're not related."

* * *

But, strangely, the flames never touched the foursome who were trapped in the giant pit full of kernels. 

They just went after the kernels.

Then THEY exploded...Into giant fluffy puffball morsels. A buttery aroma filled the air, and the kernels fell in a sort of beautiful dance, soft POP!'s emitting as they burst into little bite size tidbits.

Arya, Saphira, Orik, and Eragon found themselves buoyed up with the kernels/yellowish puffballs.

The kernels fell first, surprisingly enough, to form a soft, cushiony pit that the foursome could land safely on.

Saphira adjusted herself on the puffy things, content that her Rider was okay.

Orik was sniffing one of the puffy things, and said slowly, "HEY! These things look kind of familiar..."

Arya, eyes wide, shouted, "DON'T EAT IT!"

Orik chanced a hurt glance at the elf, and found that she was rather red in the face.

Apparently, elves don't take to not being on solid ground.

Orik, while Arya was frantically scanning the area for a way to get out, stuffed about ten of the morsels into his mouth.

His features took on an expression of complete bliss.

Enlightened by the great happiness he was feeling, he stood up, completely forgetting where he was standing, and ran over to Arya, who was still scanning the furiously inactive trees for some sort of idea as to how to get out of the mess.

Orik picked up another large handful of the now puffballs, and tapped Arya on the shoulder.

Arya turned around, and snapped, "WHAT?"

Orik brought the yellowish whitish things and stuffed them in Arya's mouth before she could even blink.

Arya's eyes grew wide, and she choked, and swallowed.

Orik grinned.

Arya's expression was one of pure horror...then..._happiness_.

Orik grinned again.

Saphira looked up over at the pair from scarfing down enormous amounts of the addicting things and grinned, revealing sharp teeth.

Arya got up woozily, and said, "Orrrikk, wha-what are those thiinnngggs?"

Orik, just as woozy, said, "I...dunnnooo...Did-didn't ya-ya-you know?"

Arya flopped down again, the fluff thingys making a soft _phuft_ noise, and said, "I fur-fur-forgot."

Saphira, not in the least intoxicated, said, _We'd better get Eragon back to camp._

Not that Eragon looked like he wasn't enjoying his self-magic-induced slumber. A smile crossed his blotchy sunburned/lack of food turned face, and his brackish brown hair flopped back and forth across his head in the breeze.

Saphira chuckled, _He looks like a dog who just got into the wedding cake, then laid down for a nap._

Arya said, "R-Right then. Orik, help me with the stretcher."

Orik said, confused, "What stretcher?"

Arya looked around, muttering, "Silly me."

Arya brought a stretcher out from behind her back, and threw it at Orik's head, who unsuccessfully tried to dodge it. The stretcher bounced off Orik's thick skull, ("OW!"), and boomeranged back to Arya.

Arya frowned at the stretcher, then a light bulb turned on above her head,.

She turned and stumbled away from Orik across the meadow of puff things. She turned back towards Orik, who was watching her with a trace of apprehension; cocked her head slightly to the right, then turned and stepped to the left.

She raised the stretcher above her head, at such a precarious angle Orik was sure the stretcher would fall, then, before Orik could move, Arya whipped around and chucked the stretcher at Orik's head.

Orik leapt valiantly for safety, but the stretcher was too quick for him.

With a ZZZZING, it changed course and BOING!-ed off of Orik's head, cutting a straight path towards Saphira and Eragon.

Saphira caught the edge of the stretcher on her claw and languidly flipped it underneath her towards the saddle, where it caught on the steel rings.

Orik, not particularly fazed at the fact that he'd just had a stretcher thrown at him as for the reasons behind it, turned on Arya.

His face changed from normal skin tones rapidly to the color of an undercooked beet.

Orik glared at Arya, who was strolling casually past him, fluff stuff crunching underfoot.

Steam poured out of Orik's ears, and a whistling noise emitted involuntarily from his nose.

Arya spun around, mildly amused as Orik exploded, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR? YOU WERE TEN FEET FROM SAPHIRA AND COULD'VE CHUCKED IT AT HER FROM THERE—"

"—Wrong angle—", Arya interjected.

"—OR YOU COULD'VE JUST **_WALKED OVER THERE _**AND HANDED IT TO SAPHIRA LIKE _CIVILIZED_ PEOPLE DO—"

"—I'm not a people, I'm an elf—"

"—SAME DIFFERENCE—"

"—Let us examine this claim—"

"—NO!"

Orik glared at Arya, breathing heavily and bellowed, "EH?"

"Too much work."

"WHAT?"

"It was too much work as to just simply contemplating the fact of doing such a mediocre act of just walking to Saphira and handing it to her."

"THIS IS STUPID!"

"Au contraire."

"SO THEN, YOU'RE LAZY!"

"I am not lazy, I am an elf."

"WHAT—EVER!"

"Make up your mind."

The corners of Arya's mouth twitched, and she flounced over to Saphira.

Orik went after her, scowling and muttering, "The IGNORANCE of some _people_! You just accept it, and MOVE ON!"

Arya turned around, emerald eyes sparkling, and said, "I HAVE moved on, Mr. Dwarf; whereas _some_ people find it necessary to stick to heavy drinking and the likes."

"I AM NOT A DRUNKARD, if that is what you're suggesting."

"Shall we examine THIS claim—"

"—NO!—"

"—I certainly remember you stumbling around camp—"

"—DID NOT!—"

"—with a bottle of beer under your arm—"

"—Must've been another dwarf—"

"—singing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall'—"

"—NAH-_AH_!"

"_Yeah-HAH!"_

"—LAZY—"

"—_Drunkard_—"

"—ELF—"

"—_Dwarf_—"

"—STUPID—"

"—_Short_—"

"—FICKLE—"

"—_Smelly_—"

_ENOUGH_! Roared Saphira.

Orik and Arya looked about, surprised.

_We need to get back._

Looking guilty, the two worked together to hoist Eragon onto the stretcher.

Well, at least, they TRIED to.

Eragon was very slippery from sitting in the butter puffs, so it was no surprise that the pair couldn't get a hold of Eragon.

"He's like a dolphin greased in lard, "Arya grumbled.

"What's a dolphin?" Orik inquired.

"Never mind."

Saphira huffed impatiently, and said, _I'll get him_. _Pick up some of the puff stuff and put it in the sack. _Saphira nodded her head in the direction of a large, bright-purple-with-green-polka-dots-canvas sail-cloth from their supply kit.

Saphira neatly hooked her claw through the neck part of Eragon's tunic, and delicately slid him onto the stretcher.

Eragon rolled over and muttered, "Mercywort..." before snuggling closer into the stretcher.

The group froze, and Orik turned slowly toward Arya, and said, "What did he say?"

_Mercywort,_ boomed Saphira.

Arya caught on, eyes wide, and said, "That means—"

"—we found—"

"—the entire Dramur Wyrda supply—"

"—of—"

"—MERCYWORT!" They finished together, slightly incredulous.

Orik looked at Arya, a sickened expression on his face, said, "Arya you feeling—"

"—Ticklish?" Arya interrupted, realization dawning on her.

They looked at each other for another queasy moment, then both shouted at the top of their lungs, "HURRY!"

"QUICK!" Orik yelled, and strapped the bright-purple-with-green-polka-dots canvas sail-cloth to Saphira's scaly legs.

Arya, palm out, called calmly at a quarter of the Mercywort meadow, "RISA!" The fluffy, puffy, Mercywort rose in the air, like a yellowish whitish cloud. Arya directed the plentiful Mercywort at the bright purple-with-green-polka-dots-canvas, then dropped her arms away so that the Mercywort fell neatly into the sack.

Orik finished tying off the canvas, then hopped on Saphira, Arya following.

Saphira gave two great beats of her wings, flattening the furiously inactive trees and scattering the entire meadow of Mercywort everywhere.

They took off into the sunset, a dwarf, an elf, a dragon and her Rider, all giggling slightly...

* * *

**(A/N): All right...Little bit of space b/tw this chapter and the last, but writer's block is NOT FUN!-no matter what they say on Mars. I have some thingy's to say, so bear with me:**

**Much thanks to: Fallen0Angel, for letting me use Bob the goldfish, (who ROX MY SOX!), and all patient readers...**

**Dedications to: 'the sister', who I love very much, and who does in fact have a rather large vocabulary. :D

* * *

**

**R&R...NOW!...Pleaseandthankyou...:D.**


	10. Robberies, Fickles, and Giggles

**PART ONE:**

Chapter 10: Robberies, Fickles, and Giggles

(A/N): Umm, for the '--ooo--' thingy's, that's the only borderline I could get to work. XD

Disclaimers: ENOUGH with the effing disclaimers. Make me SICK! See other chapters if you really need sufficient proof that I do not own Eragon/Eldest characters or otherwise related material that you KNOW I don't own. Good Grief.

—**BEGIN PART ONE—**

It was a tedious ride back, to say the least.

Saphira, being the only one not having ingested copious amounts of Mercywort; was constantly hampered by her riders, who had.

Orik was persist in his guffawing, his rough dwarvish 'A-HAW, HAW, HAW!' echoing among the clouds.

Arya's musical trill that would be likened to soft water fall plinking off small stones rang in Saphira's ears—arousing a deep humming noise in her throat interrupted by small bouts of dragonish laughter.

As the tingling, tickling sensation moved up toward their appendix area, Arya and Orik's laughter became increasingly raucous , leaving Orik wheezing and gasping for breath; and making Arya twist and turn around on Saphira—the tickling was so bad.

As the sky started to begin it's phase toward the end of the rainbow, Saphira felt herself becoming wet, and voiced her puzzled thoughts, _Tut, tut, it looks like rain._

Arya sending a denial through their link, also showed her a mental picture of beads of moisture glistening down her face.

Then there was the mental picture of Orik.

The dwarf had sneaked some more handfuls before Arya had gotten the canvas sailcloth out and had 'overdosed'.

Since his past 'bout with Mercywort, (which he didn't remember), he had developed a sort of tolerance to the fickle plant, and it only took a little to receive that fetter some, tingling, ticklish feeling.

So, the mental picture Arya sent Saphira was both very detailed and rather humorous.

Two giant slews of water were pouring out of Orik's eyes, as if his tear ducts were connected to two giant fire-hydrants—spouting the tears in a rainbow shaped arc onto Saphira's body.

Arya grinned through her laughter, which wasn't hard to do, and mild tears, and said, "Are you all right, Mr. Dwarf?"

Two bloodshot eyes and streaming nose whipped around, and the mouth spoke, so covered in gloopy snot and tears that Arya wondered how Orik managed at all,

"I'm quite WELL, Arya, thanks."

Arya could barely understand Orik, it sounded like:

"Blib boinb _beennaa_, waknya, foongs,"

But, she got the gist.

Smiling ever so sweetly, she leaned forward and said, "Got issues—?"

But was interrupted by a joyous Saphira, "—_Get TISSUES_!"

Which made Arya's sides ache even more, she was laughing so hard.

Then, out of the blue, a slightly delirious, slightly conscious voice mumbled,

"Are we _there_ YET?"

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

"DANG!" the authoress shouted as her cheese dart missed the blob of red Jell-O standing on the table.

Per usual, the sound of feet could be heard on the carpet, the sister's feet, to be exact.

The authoress turned around and yelled, "DANGIT! STUPID THING!" and turned off the Automated Foot Sound Imitator 900.

The authoress grabbed another cheese dart, and threw it at the blob of red Jell-O, missing again.

"Dang!" the author mumbled, and then picked up the box of cheese darts, "maybe blue cheese would work better than cheddar?"

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

Angela and Nasuada raced out onto a patch of clear field full sprint.

Nasuada scanned the ground, "Are they here yet?"

Angela looked at Nasuada and said, "Nasuada."

"Hmm?"

"Dragons don't fly on the ground, they fly in the air."

"Oh, yes," Nasuada, and turned her attention to the skies, blushing slightly.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

"YES!" shouted the authoress, grabbing up a box of blue cheese darts, "the last ones!"

The authoress raced out of the store, not even bothering to pay in her excitement.

"Should we call the cops, Jerry?" said Flo the counter-attendant.

"I don't know, Flo," said Jerry the janitor.

"She only stole a box of cheese darts—"

"—which no one buys anymore—"

"—and we've got plenty of the useless things in storage—"added Flo.

"—Right! And, they don't sell as well as..." Jerry stared off into space trying to recall what sold better that the cheese darts.

"The pet rocks?" Flo prompted.

"Yeah, you're right!" Jerry exclaimed, "Those pet rocks are a sure neat thing, aren't they, Flo?"

"Dudical," sighed Flo.

"Wanna see mine?" Jerry asked.

"Sure," responded Flo with enthusiasm.

"Here," Jerry pulled out a strangely painted rock with glue on eyes and stapled on yarn hair.

"What's its name?"

"Oh, now, now, Flo, Murtle the Turtle doesn't respond to being called 'it'."

"Ooo!" squealed Flo, completely forgetting her age for a moment.

"Just bought him today from that designer rock store, Oh what's it called?"

Flo's eyes widened, "You don't mean—"

Jerry seemed to recall the name of the store, and said, "I think it was Neiman Rockkus, or was it Rokki? I don't remember. Most likely Neiman Rockkus, they've got the best brands."

While Flo sat there admiring, and Jerry glowing like the proud rock owner he was, the paint, eyes, and hair on Murtle the Turtle fell off, revealing a plain, black, lava rock.

"Oh, "said Jerry.

"My," said Flo.

"GOODNESS!" screamed the authoress, who ran back into the store and saw the 90 percent off discount on cheese darts.

The authoress proceeded to grab every last box of cheese darts in the store, and, (once again), in her excitement, forgot to pay.

Jerry was rather mad at the loss of his cheaply made $20,000 Murtle the Turtle pet rock from Neiman Rockkus, so he called the cops on the authoress.

Right as the authoress reached the door, a SWAT squad surrounded the building, a special force of riot police blocking the authoress from escape.

The authoress lifted an eyebrow, and calmly took out a cheese dart and started snacking on the cheese part of the dart, making sure to avoid the sharp metal dart part of the cheese dart.

"You have a right to remain silent!" commanded a voice on megaphone, coming from a helicopter circling the _Get Snax Quik _store.

"Ya know what I say?" said the authoress in a bored tone.

"WHAT?" shouted the entire riot/police/SWAT squad, completely disregarding the thing that the megaphone shouted before

The authoress took another bite off of the cheese dart before answering, "You have the right to remain UH-GUH-LY!"

"OOO, DISSSSS..." shouted Jerry and Flo.

At that, the whole riot/police/SWAT squad burst into tears, and the barrier before the authoress melted away as the entire force succumbed to hysterical, racking sobs.

"YOU ARE SO EVIL!" shouted one of the officers as he took out his hanky.

_Ahh, the power of the pen is a mighty tool, _thought the authoress before walking calmly out of the _Get Snax Quik _store, and remarking, "And you KNOW IT!"

"Word," remarked Flo and Jerry.

Jerry took out the mop and started to pick up the broken pieces of Murtle the Turtle, and said, "What about them water bottles, eh?"

"I KNOW!" said Flo, "They are SOOO IN!"

"Refreshing," said Jerry.

"Regenerating," said Flo.

"Rejuvinating," said Jerry.

"Re-DUNDANT!" called the authoress before flouncing her way home.

"Man," said the female cop, "why does she ALWAYS have to get the last word?"

"Power to the pen, dude, power to the pen," said the burly SWAT guy.

"Amen," muttered the authoress as she stood in front of the blob of red Jell-O, holding a swiss cheese dart.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

"THERE THEY ARE!" shrieked Nasuada, her ebony colored finger like a chocolate chip in the cloudy skies.

Saphira appeared to be hampered by some sort of burden, and when Nasuada looked closer, she could see that there was a figure strapped to her belly.

Underneath that, there was curiously large canvas sailcloth strapped to her fore and hind legs.

Roran came rushing out to prepare for the landing, and yelled, "LAND, DANGIT, LAND!"

"They can't'," said Angela, the only calm one in the chaos of happenings.

"BUT WHY?" Roran shouted at Angela.

"Don't shout, dearie, it's bad for your larynx—"

"—WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?"

"It's your voice box—"

"ANGELA—"

"—which promotes sound—"

"—DANGIT, JUST TELL ME—"

"—singing, and all other—"

"—WHAT THE HECK—"

"—thingskindofliketalking," Angela finished.

(Translation: "—things kind of like talking.")

Roran just stared at Angela, and turned away muttering, "Witches. Go figure."

Angela hurried after him saying, "As to your other question—"

"Eh?" Roran said, confused, then he remembered what he had asked before and said, "Oh yes, that."

Angela cleared her throat and said, "Yes, the reason why Saphira can't land is that Eragon is strapped to her belly, and below that is carrying a rather large canvas sailcloth."

"Well, then why don't we just cut the sailcloth?" Roran queried, sounding as if he was merely asking about the weather.

"Hmmm..." Angela looked up again, trying to calculate the distance from the rapidly tiring Saphira and the ground. She lifted her hands up in a box shape, making an angle, much as a photographer would if he was trying to fit people and scenery together in a space as enclosed as a kitchen drawer.

"I don't see why not," Angela said, and ran away from a surprised Roran, toward Nasuada.

"NASUADA!" Angela yelled over the noise of Saphira's wing beats.

"YES?" shouted the leader of the Varden, looking slightly harried and windswept.

"WE NEED TO CUT THE ROPES BINDING THE CANVAS SAILCLOTH TO SAPHIRA SO SHE CAN LAND!"

"Did and done."

"Nasuada, that doesn't make any sense," said Roran, rather exasperated.

"Do and done?"

"Still not making sense."

"How about 'done and done'?" Nasuada compromised.

"Now you're just being redundant."

"WHATEVER."

Nasuada turned to a seven foot tall guard and exchanged a few terse words with him. The seven foot tall guard shook his head.

Impatiently, she turned to one of the massive Kull she used as her bodyguard, and gestured at his sword, then at Saphira. The Kull grunted, and walked a distance of about twenty feet away, then drew its sword.

Hefting if as if it were a twig, the Kull grunted again and beckoned to a taller comrade.

They exchanged a few muttered grunts, and the comrade gave the Kull an axe.

Weighing it from hand to hand, the Kull grunted again and gripped the axe firmly.

He gathered himself into a stance that would be likened to one about to throw a discus, and hurled the axe at the rope binding the canvas sail cloth to Saphira's fore and hind legs.

With a ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZING! and a whistle, the axe chopped a clean cut through the massive rope, and as if bound on an invisible course, boomeranged straight back at the Kull that had thrown it.

The Kull extended his arm and caught the axe by its handle, and gave a mighty victory roar.

The comrade that had let the Kull borrow the axe went over to the Kull, took back its axe, and exchanged a few silver coins with the Kull that had thrown the axe.

Apparently, the group that went to Dramur Wyrda was a source of a bet among the brutish war-loving Kull.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

A support group compromised mainly of humans and Kull caught the canvas sailcloth and brought it over to Angela, who looked mildly surprised, confused, wary and satisfied.

"Only a witch like Angela could give a look like that," grunted the Kull.

"Which witch?" grunted the comrade.

The pair continued to give each other confused looks, then shrugged and went about their businesses.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

Roran turned to Nasuada and said, "Can they land, NOW?"

"No."

"How 'bout NOW."

"Not yet."

"..."

"HOW ABOUT NOW?"

"No."

"NOW?"

"NO, DANGIT!" Nasuada finally lost her temper and turned on Roran, her dark skinned face turning purple.

Roran tapped his foot.

Angela yawned.

Nasuada chewed on her nails.

Angela yawned.

The dwarves took another sip of beer.

Angela yawned.

"ANGELA!" Roran barked.

"Hmm?"

"STOP YAWNING, DANGIT!"

"Actually, yawning is the—"

"I DON'T GIVE—"

"--healthy way of saying—"

"—A CARE ABOUT—"

"--'there is a lack of oxygen supply—"

"—WILL YOU JUST—"

"--to my brain right now'—"

"—SHUDDAP!—"

"—without shouting it." Angela finished and turned her attention to Saphira again.

Roran glared at Angela, before turning away and muttering, "Fickle witch."

"Yes I am," came the reply.

Roran paused, then, "How about now?"

"NO!" came the reply from the entire host of Urgals, Kull, dwarves and Varden.

"Jeez!" Roran said, turning scarlet.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo

"SAPHIRA—hee, hee—WE NEED TO LAND—ho, ho, ho," Orik managed to gasp out before succumbing to another fit of the giggles.

_All right,_ said Saphira, and she dropped out of the sky...

—**END P****ART ONE—**

(A/N): All right...Hate it? Review. Love it? Review! Comments/Suggestions/or otherwise related somethingafinks? REVIEW ALREADY!


	11. Mother of all Surprises

PART TWO:

Chapter Ten: Mother of all Surprises

—**BEGIN PART TWO—**

Saphira pulled her wings out with a loud Snap! before she hit the ground, suspending her lithe form in the air a few feet and gracefully descending on the compacted dirt.

_Whew! _Came the thoughts of all who were gathered there, _That was close._

"Too close," Angela muttered aloud, and rushed over to the group.

What met her eyes was indeed a shocking sight.

Arya was a bedraggled, rumpled, soiled and _laughing _mess as she tumbled off of Saphira and hit the ground with an undignified THUMP! Orik was collapsed near the beginning of Saphira's spines at the base of her neck, one stout arm flung over his head.

He wasn't getting up any time soon.

_Maybe we should bring out a tankard of something...strong..._Angela mused.

Saphira, strangely, the only one not hurt or otherwise insanely affected, was struggling to remove something from the underside of her belly. Angela rushed over to look, and saw a stretcher. Angela frowned, _Wait a minute..._Angela counted the number of returned journeymen, and saw that Eragon was missing.

Saphira gave a loud roar of frustration, and Angela quickly ran underneath her to the stretcher. Undoing the metal clasps that held it to the saddle, she let it fall to the ground. Saphira quickly backed away, anxious to see who was on the stretcher.

Angela's eyes flew wide with shock.

There, among a tattered mess of blankets, dirty clothes, and other things that wisely would go unmentioned, lay Eragon.

Except, it did not look like Eragon.

His hair was turned from brown to a dirty black, and hung lank and unkempt over his blotchy sunburned face. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were numerous bleeding scrapes dotting his pointed ears. His skin looked like a roll of plastic Saran-wrap, stretched tightly over his muscles and body frame from malnourishment. Bruises dotted his Saran-wrapped skin, quite handsome ones to: varying from a deep purple all the way down the rainbow to a pucy, mottled yellow.

Angela wrinkled her nose in distaste and sympathy.

Saphira roared again, and everyone looked expectantly at her, and she said, _Eragon got lost in the woods for three days through all types of weather. We went looking for him about a day after the showers, and found him trapped atop a pile of rocks._

The Varden gasped.

Saphira cleared her throat and continued, shooting a death glare at Trianna, who was stroking Eragon's hair, _You do NOT want to know where that's been, witch._ Trianna hastily dropped her arms to her side, but gave Eragon a look of pure admiration.

Saphira growled.

Trianna backed away, fear overcoming her contenance.

Saphira sighed, _I do not know what Eragon saw in her—she even tries to play him up when he's unconscious! Stupid girl._

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"OOOO! I LOVE 'STUPID GIRLS'" The authoress shrieked, bouncing up and down on the couch with her sister after having forsaken throwing cheese darts at the blob of red Jell-O, which they were eating right now.

"ME TOO!" the sister screamed, and started to dance.

"HEY! I'M THE ONE WHO CAN DANCE!" The authoress shouted and cued Fifty Cent, who was over by the sound system.

"Break it down!" the authoress said, and started 'getting jiggy with it'.

The sister sat back down, and muttered, "Show off..."

"You're just jealous," said the authoress, doing the splits.

The sister growled at the authoress.

All the authoress did was get right up in her sister's face and shake her butt around.

"EWW!" the sister shrieked.

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it," the authoress said, and started to do the 'butt dance'.

"EWW!" the sister shrieked again, "GET YOUR BUTT OUT OF MY FACE!"

"GET YOUR FACE OUT OF MY BUTT!" the authoress retorted.

The authoress, never stopping her dance, turned around to properly gauge the sister's reaction.

The sister wrinkled her nose and replied, "No, but seriously, you really need to get your butt out of my face."

"You seriously need to learn how to dance," the authoress said.

"DANGIT!" the sister shouted, then, in a quieter tone that she thought the authoress couldn't hear, "Why does she ALWAYS get the last word?"

The authoress chuckled, then started singing, "STUPID GIRLS..."

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

_We eventually got him out all right, but not before he lit the whole area on fire,_ Saphira said, continuing to give death glares to Trianna, who was quavering under the dragon's stern stare.

Saphira went up to Trianna and nosed her on the forehead, not gently, and said only to her, _You are unwise and foolish._

_I don't know what you're talking about,_ Trianna retorted, a guilty blush creeping over her cheeks.

_Say it, or I will, _Saphira roared into Trianna's mind, making her flinch beyond normal reason.

Trianna cleared her throat, and said to the general public, "Everyone?"

Nobody payed attention.

Trianna's cheeks reddened, and she tried again, "HELLO! I NEED YOUR ATTENTION!"

Still, everyone ignored her and went about their business.

Even one of the dwarves was taking advantage of the gap in conversation to sneak a swig out of a large bottle of vodka.

Trianna went even redder, (if that's even possible), in anger, and she screamed at the top of her lungs, "DANGIT! PAY ATTENTION YOU STUPID FOOLS!"

Well, that certainly did it, if all else failed.

Everyone swiveled around to stare at Trianna.

Trianna nervously twisted the hem of her gown, and mumbled, "I have something to confess..."

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"I WANT PIZZA!" the authoress shrieked at the sleepover she and her friends were hosting.

Other cries for food soon followed:

"—PEPPERONI—"

"—MUSHROOMS–"

"—EWW THOSE ARE NASTY, I WANT BELL PEPPERS—"

"—SAUSAGE—"

"—GROSS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY PUT IN THOSE THINGS?—"

"—DON'T KNOW AND DON'T CARE—"

"—OLIVES FOR ME—"

"—UGH, THOSE SMELL LIKE BOILED MUSHROOMS—"

"—I LIKE MUSHROOMS!—"

"—WHO CARES? LIKE I WAS SAYING, THOSE SMELL LIKE BOILED MUSHROOMS WITH A HINT OF VINEGAR—"

Conversation suddenly stopped as everyone turned to stare at the authoress, who had made the last comment.

"What? It's probably the truth, ya know," the authoress remarked.

"EWW!"

"I'M NEVER EATING OLIVES AGAIN!"

"Does olive oil count?" said the sister, who was listening in.

"No it doesn't, silly!" said the authoress, with friends looking on attentively, "I mean," the authoress said gesturing to include her friends, "Do you EVER see olive oil doing algebra? Math? Least of all COUNT?"

The authoress' friends burst into loud trilling laughter, and the sister was left wondering, _Even though sis' knew what I meant, she managed to make it into a random and logically sensible pun. Maybe if I say something random, people will laugh too!_

The sister cleared her throat, and the authoress and her friends kept on talking.

The sister opened her mouth and bellowed, "FIRE!"

Total panic ensued, then, winking at the sister, the authoress grinned and said, "WATER!"

"SAVE MY CHILD! SAVE MY CHILD!" shouted another girl, who caught on.

"JUMP LADY JUMP!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—" The friends sang, holding the note out. Then on the authoress' signal, they said, "SPLAT!"

The friends burst into laugher, and the sister said grumpily, "You guys such WEIRDOS!"

The friends laughed even harder, and the authoress said, "Hey, you actually made a joke!"

The friends laughed again.

"That's not funny," said the sister as she walked over to the cheese cubes to try another go at the blob of red Jell-O.

The friends kept laughing.

"STOP LAUGHING, YOU BUFFOONS!" the sister bellowed after she missed the blob of red Jell-O.

The friends went quiet, and one friend said to the other, "Dang, since when does she get the last word?"

The other friend replied, "Must run in the family."

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

Trianna's lower lip trembled, and she said, "I stole two bottles of faelnirv from the Varden supply stock."

The entire Varden looked upon Trianna with disgust, and Trianna looked up, noticing that she wasn't being stampeded by angry mob, said," WHAT?"

Replies came all at once,

"That's nothing—"

"—What was it last week, George, ten barrels of grain?—"

"—no, more like seventeen—"

"—I used a bottle of brandy to put my baby to sleep—"

"—Thirteen casks of pickle juice last month—"

"—HEY! THAT WAS MY PICKLE JUICE!—"

"—NO IT WASN'T—"

"—DANG! I think I had my wife and I a half dozen loaves of bread for our anniversary—"

"—didn't your children take the bread and eat it?—"

"—well, it's the thought that counts—"

"—I took a healing salve yesterday for the scabs on my legs—"

"—isn't that because your tent kept beating you up?—"

"—hey, those stakes were sharp—"

"—meat, the best I ever had—"

"SHUT IT!" Roran yelled, silencing everyone in the arena.

"THANK YOU!" Roran yelled, as if being silent was the only possible thing to do.

"Roran dear, don't shout, it's bad for your—"

"LARYNX, LARYNX, I KNOW ANGELA! SHUT—UP!" Roran bellowed into the witch's face.

Angela raised her eyebrow and said, "Solembum?"

At her call, the were-cat became a small boy with unusually sharp teeth and fingernails. Several of the soldiers made the sign to ward off evil spirits, and Solembum shook his head. Angela said coolly, "Solembum, what do we do with rudeness?"

_We don't tolerate it at all, oh no, _came the creepy voice that was Solembum's mind speech. Roran shivered.

"How do we deal with rudeness?" Angela said.

_We—_Solembum edged toward Roran, who didn't know what was going on and was looking back and forth between Angela and Solembum, confused. Solembum was at Roran's elbow before he finished his sentence,--_TICKLE THEM!_

Solembum launched himself at Roran's midsection and started tickling Roran with a fierceness that could surpass a wildcat. But, you still wouldn't want a wildcat tickling you. That's what Solembum was for.

Angela looked on with a mildly amused expression on her face, and when tears started pouring down his face, she gave a signal to Solembum, who turned back into his werecat shape.

Helping Roran to his feet, she said, "Hope your larynx isn't permanently scarred for life, Roran."

Roran looked at her, confused. Angela sighed and said, "Well, you were laughing so hard that I thought that there must have been some damage. Although, laughter is the best medicine."

Roran's eyes grew wide, "Really?"

"Yes, and it keeps the doctor away!" Angela said, smiling.

Roran's eyes almost bugged out of his head, and he turned, "Here Solembum, here kitty, kitty, kitty, don't want to go to them nasty doctor's appointments now do we? Here kitty, kitty, kitty..."

Angela rolled her eyes and walked back to Nasuada's side.

"Well," Nasuada said, looking at Saphira, "What did you find?"

_Mercywort, _boasted Saphira proudly.

Angela's face whitened, and she turned on the support crew and shouted, "GET AWAY FROM THERE!"

The support crew quickly stepped away from the large canvas sailcloth as if it was a disease. Angela hurried over to it, and lifted the tarp. Then she started laughing.

And laughing...

And laughing...

And laughing...

And wouldn't stop...

"ANDELA!" Nasuada shouted, rather alarmed, "WHAT THE FINK IS GOING ON?" Angela collapsed into another fit of the giggles, rolling around on the dirt ground, and Nasuada heard the words, _Haha, you...said...FINK!_

Nasuada tapped her foot impatiently and said, "You can stop NOW, thanks."

Angela sat up, wheezing and hiccupping, and said in between gasps, "Oh, Oh-_hiccup!-_hee-hee, that's not_-wheeze!-_Mercywort!"

"WHAT!" shouted the entire host of people gathered there, including Saphira.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

_--The theme from Super Mario Brothers 2: Yoshi's Island is heard, and gradually focuses on two girls sitting in front of a T.V.—_

"Don't you know how Yoshi makes ammo?" said the sister.

"Dunno," replied the authoress.

"Eggs."

"Oh."

"You press, 'B', then, 'down.'"

"Mmhmm..."

"White with green spots."

"And?"

"You use them to shoot things."

"Wonderful. And?"

"And so if you shoot the things, they die."

"Ingenious."

"..."

"You're not listening to a single thing I'm saying, are you?" queried the sister.

"DANGIT, MARIO, GET BACK ON YOSHI, YOU STUPID BABY!" the authoress shouted at the T.V. screen.

"I thought not," sighed the sister, then the authoress said to the sister, "DANGIT! How do you get ammo?"

"Eggs."

"And?" the authoress said, completely captivated now.

"White with green spots."

"OH!"

"You use them to shoot things."

"REALLY?"

"Really, and when you shoot things, they die."

"That's—" the authoress paused then, "AMAZING!" she bellowed, knocking the sister head over heels with the force of her bellow.

"Yes," the sister said, recovering, "You press, 'B', then, 'down'."

"Wow..." said the authoress softly.

"Talk about Déjà vu," the sister commented, completely bored with the proceedings and went back to munching on a cheese dart.

Silence ensued...

Then...

"AAAHHH! NO! MARIO, STOP CRYING! YOSHI! DON'T BE STUPID—GET MARIO, YOU DUMB RIP OFF OF A GREEN DONKEY!"

"PRESS 'JUMP'—" the sister offered.

"I AM! I AM! NO, DANGIT, STUPID FLOWER! DON'T EAT YOSHI—YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE HE'S BEEN!—"

"—GET THE 'PEEP'—" the sister shouted.

"—SHUDDAP! YOSHI! NOOOOOO!" the authoress wailed, throwing her controller against the wall and started to sulk.

On the screen, Yoshi did a little ballet lie spin and fell down, dean on the too-cheerfully green grass. Baby Mario was happily taken away by a group of red mutant ducks with teeth, tennis shoes, and glasses, up into the sky.

The –GAME OVER—sighn flashed on sceen and the authoress shouted, "PILES OF ANGST!" and glared at the T.V. set.

"Umm..." the sister started and the authoress whipped around to look at her, and the sister cleared her throat, "You know..." and hit the –RESET— button on the Nintendo, "You can just start over, " the sister said, sounding matter of fact.

"REALLY!"

"Yeah."

"That's AWESOME!" the authoress shouted scaring the fink out of the pigeons roosting on Big Ben in London, 6,000 miles away...

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"SQUAWK!" screeched the roosting pigeons, ruffling their feathers indignantly and hopping up and down in a state of great agitation.

"Screechity, squawk, coo, coo, ditty?" said one pigeon to the other, which translates roughly into, "Say, old chap, what was that hullabaloo all about?"

"I don't know, Percival old boy, and I don't care to find out," said Scrooge, the other pigeon.

"Righto," affirmed Percival.

"Shall we fly, my fair weather friend?" inquired Scrooge.

"Of course not, you bumbling rat with wings! It's cloudy today, and I think I'm going to poop on that bobby's head over there," said Percival.

"See you next spring!" called Scrooge, and when Percial was out of sight, muttered, "What does he mean, 'It's cloudy today'! It's always cloudy in London. Natty old codger, he is."

When Scrooge was out of earshot, Percival said, "Stupid old birdbrain, he is."

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"I'm amazed at the redundancy of London pigeons," remarked the authoress rather drily as she gazed at the T.V. screen.

A series of noises generated from the game, signaling the entrance of the first boss.

The authoress grinned evilly, and shouted, "DIE, YOU STUPID BEACH BALL IN PINSTRIPE TROUSERS, DIE! HA, HA!"

The bobby felt something wet on his head, and put his hand up to feel what was there. A white blobby mass came off of his hat onto his hand, and the bobby wrinkled his nose in disgust. He lifted his old fashioned shot gun to his shoulder, ignoring the protests of passerby, and took aim...and FIRE!

The pigeon dropped out of the sky.

The rest of the pigeons immediately crowded around Scrooge, who was loudly lamenting in pigeon speech, "THE POOR, POOR CHAP! I KNEW HIM WELL!" Scrooge then made a noise equivalent to that of a sniff and said, "GOOD PIGEON, HE WAS, WHEN WE WERE ROOSTING AT THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL..." and on and on he went...

Meanwhile...

"GEORGE, YOU GREAT DOLT! THAT'S THE SEVENTH PIGEON THIS WEEK!—"

"—MORE LIKE SEVENTIETH—"

"—DO YOU WANT TO PURGE LONDON OF IT'S NATURAL TRASH EATERS, EH?—"

"—MAYBE—"

"—STUPID RATS WITH WINGS THEY ARE, BUT YOU CAN'T GO SHOOTING BIRDS OUT OF THE SKY! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEFENDING THE QUEEN!—"

"—THE QUEEN DON'T LIKE PIGEONS EITHER!—"

"—YES, BUT HER GOOD MAJESTY DOESN'T NEED TO HEAR RIFLE SHOT SEVEN THOUSAND TIMES A DAY!—"

"—ACTUALLY, EIGHT THOUSAND—"

"—SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU GREAT LOUT!"

"YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE I CAN SHOOT PIGEONS AND YOU CAN'T—"

"—AM NOT—"

"—ARE TOO—"

"—AM NOT—"

"—ARE TOO—"

"—WELL, MOTHER LIKES ME BETTER, **I WASN'T THE ONE** USING HER BEST CHINA TEA CUPS FOR TARGET PRACTICE—"

"—OH, SO YOU REMEMBER THOSE, DIDN'T YOU? USED TO SIT AND DRINK TEA WITH MOTHER AND HER FRIENDS LIKE YOU WERE ROYALTY—"

"—MOTHER STILL LIKES ME BETTER, ANYHOW."

"..."

"GEORGE?"

"I'M TELLING MOTHER!"

"NOT BEFORE I GET THERE FIRST, YOU GREAT DUNG HEAP!"

"WELL, YOU WOULD KNOW, YOU'RE THE ONE SLEEPING IN THE DUNG HEAPS!"

"WHY YOU LITTLE—"

"—MOTHER!"

And so the bobbies' raced off into the night, each trying to find the great tea cup loving mother, who was calmly washing the brother's socks, (WHAT? You didn't expect two mature, snigger, grown men to wash their OWN socks, did you?) and listening to a soap opera called: _Causing a Scene..._

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

The authoress, bored of beating the fat beach ball boss in pinstripe trousers, had taken to flicking through the soap opera channels.

Which rapidly proved to be rather amusing, for the authoress kept putting lines of her own invention into the character's mouths before they could say their next line.

"Edna," said the tall man to the blond, breathy actress, "I came as soon as I found out—"

"—THAT YOU DIDN'T HAVE A BRAIN!" interjected the authoress, gleefully.

"Oh, Walter—"started Edna, but then the authoress said,

"YOU'RE SUCH A LOSER!"

"I know, it's such a shame," sighed Edna, tearfully, "I'm so unhappy—"

"—THAT I DIDN'T FINISH THE FIRST GRADE!" shouted the authoress.

"You must be devastated," started Walter," I would be too if I found out—"

"—THAT I'M ONLY GETTING PAID A BUCK FIFTY FOR THIS LAME, LOUSY JOB!" cackled the authoress.

"Oh, Walter—"started Edna, but was interrupted by the authoress, who hooted:

"—THANK GOD YOU'RE A POOPER SCOOPER, OR ELSE WE'D NEVER BE ABLE TO AFFORD THE CARDBOARD BOX WE LIVE IN!"

"I can't help you anymore," said Walter, "I have to—"

"—GO TO THE ANNUAL POOPER SCOOPER'S CONVENTION! THEY GIVE OUT FREE PLASTIC GLOVES AND BAGGIES FOR UNMENTIONABLE THINGS THAT I PICK UP!" whooped the authoress, getting increasingly elaborate in her descriptions of a made up life for Edna and Walter.

"Oh, Walter—" started Edna, again, and the authoress, again, interrupted:

"—I KEEP ON POUNDING THIS PATHETIC PHRASE OVER AND OVER AGAIN! YOU MUST BE REALLY ANNOYED WITH MY LACK OF ORIGINALITY!"

"Edna, you know I have to leave you—"started Walter, and the authoress almost insane with laughter, said:

"—FOR THAT REALLY HOT, AND EVEN MORE BRAINLESS PARIS HILTON CHICK IN CALIFORNIA!"

"Walter, please, please," Edna cried, "Please—"

"—GIVE ME A BRAIN SO THAT I CAN THINK!" the authoress bawled, tears of mirth pouring out of her eyes.

But, this time was interrupted by Walter, who said, "Edna, I'll never leave your side—" and as always, the authoress added:

"—FOR THAT REALLY HOT BRAINLESS PARIS HILTON CHICK IN CALOFORNIA!"

The sister walked into the room to hear this:

1) The sound of her authoress/sister laughing

2) The sound of a soap opera

3) The fact that her SISTER WAS WATCHING A SOAP OPERA AND—

4)—LAUGHING!

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" the sister shouted, completely non-plussed as to the current situation.

"Oh, Oh, OH!" the authoress laughed, beside herself with hilarity, "IF SHE ONLY HAD A BRAIN! HA, HA, HA!"

"My head hurts," said the sister, and swayed, dizzily, out of the room.

"I wonder if they actually have a pooper scooper's convention?" wondered the authoress aloud...

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"Name?" asked a woman with banana colored hair and bright pink fingernails.

"Joe Flloyd."

"Place?"

"Dog park."

"Business?"

"Do you really need to know that?"

"We're very serious about Pooper-Scooping here at the 10th Annual Pooper-Scooper's Convention," said the woman in an obnoxious voice, looking at him from over her horn rimmed glasses.

"Plastic bags, big dogs, city streets.." Joe rattled off, "Happy?"

"Mutual, I'm sure," was the reply, "Please pick up your complimentary sample of Hefty's signature pooper-scoopering-gloves."

"Will do, lady," sighed Joe...

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"Nah, there's no such thing," said the authoress, then yelled, "MORE CHEESE DARTS!"

_What was I thinking? There's no such thing! Ha! I bet even if there WAS one, they'd be giving out plastic gloves for better future pooper-scoopering! HA! HA! HA! _the authoress thought, grinning at the now empty box of cheese darts.

--ooo--ooo--ooo--ooo--

"No, of course it's not Mercywort, you DIMWITS!" Anela said, rather irritably, dusting herself off, and turning to look at Arya and Orik. She walked toward them, and Nasuada followed her, somewhat apprehensively, saying, "Well, then, what is it?"

Angela ignored her and said briskly, "Get Arya and Orik a bath—Roran don't look at me that way, of course SEPARATELY—clean clothes, and then bring them to me, I'll give them a sleeping draught. Give or take a couple of hours, and they'll be as good as new!"

When nobody went to do as she had ordered, Angela grew enraged and said, "WELL! GET TO IT ALREADY! AM I YOUR BABY SITTER? DO I NEED TO SPECIFICALLY OUTLINE WHAT YOU NEED TO DO? I DON'T THINK SO!" Angela glowered at the crowd, "EH?"

Murmurs of confusion flickered throughout the crowd, and Angela massaged her temples and called wearily, "SCRUFF MAIDS?"

"E-GADS!" Roran yelled, thinking, _I don't know what that word means, but it sure sounds cool._

_Scruff Maids?_ Nasuada thought, puzzled, _what are Scruff Maids?_

—**END PART TWO—**

**(A/N): Otay, so this chapter was going to get a leeetle long if I wrote any more. I mean, I know long chappies are DA BOMB, alas, this one would've gotten super, super annoying. Don't worry, I have lots planned for next chapter...muahahaha...REVIEW pleaseshandthanks.**


	12. What Saves the Day?

Chapter Eleven: What Saves the Day?

Disclaimer: This is going to be a long one: Don't own any songs mentioned in this chappie, or Disney. Haha, gotcha!

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Recap:

_Murmurs of confusion flickered throughout the crowd, and Angela massaged her temples and called wearily, "SCRUFF MAIDS?"_

_Scruff Maids? Nasuada thought, puzzled, what are Scruff Maids?_

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At a glance Nasuada's question was answered for her.

The flowed out of Angela's tent in a flurry of rags, fluffy little bits of cloth assembled together in a sort of pom-pom shape. Bits of _scruff_. Some were larger than others, had more rags attached to them than the pom-pom shaped Scruff Maids. They were all a bright white, like a new-born lamb after it's cleaning, and had voices, too. That was the unnerving part. Little girlish giggles, trilling young boy voices, _laughter_ seemed to be their speech.

Six of the pom-pom shaped Scruff Maids were carrying an enormous wash basin, and six more were carrying another. They didn't seem to be touching the basins...just...floating beside it. The basin seemed to be floating, too. Several more of the Varden made the sign against evil, and Angela rolled her eyes.

She said, "These, my dearhearts, are Scruff Maids. They are completely harmless cleaning tools that I developed a while back when I was trying to figure out how to clean something without really cleaning it."

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" Roran interrupted.

"CHEATING? On the contrary, I call it...improvisation?" Angela suggested, and Roran scratched his head.

"Well, Scruff Maids clean whatever you need to clean, absorbing the dirt, grime, and nastiness into their skin." Nasuada wrinkled her nose in distaste, and Angela continued, "All you do is give the Scruff Maids _themselves_ a bath, and all the dirt, grime, and other unmentionables, will wash away."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" Roran objected.

"Eh?"

"I mean, you're all clean, right? And THEN you have to give something dirty a bath and you get dirty all over again, right?"

"Well," Angela said, rather flustered, "No, you don't get dirty unless you bathe with the scruff maids that you're washing."

Roran frowned, and said, "Yeah, but you still get dir—"

"—SHUT UP, RORAN!" shouted the entire Varden.

Roran winced and muttered, "Touchy, touchy, geez, don't put your beer in the wrong hole..."

Angela said, "As I was saying—"

"—Shut up?" Roran offered.

"—SHUT UP RORAN! Anyways, all you—" Angela paused, "PEOPLE—need to do is gather three large tubs, filled to the brim with hot and soapy water—"

"—AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! SOAP! AH! KEEP—THAT—AWAY—FROM—ME! NOOOOO! " Roran screamed, running in circles and frothing at the mouth.

Eragon, from his state of supposed of unconscious, woke up to hear Roran's shouts and yelled, "DANGIT RORAN! SHUT UP! YOU WILL **NOT** BE SUCKED DOWN THE DRAIN AND SOAP IS **NOT** AN EVIL POISONOUS SUBSTANCE, DANGIT!"

Roran stopped running in circles and frothing at the mouth to look up in surprise and said, "They WILL TOO—"

"—WON'T—" yelled Eragon.

"—WILL—"

"—WON'T—"

"—WILL—"

"—WON'T—"

"—I **WILL** KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T **SHUDDAP**!" Angela shouted, and glared at the two cousins.

Eragon flopped limply on his side to face Roran, and said, "No more shouting, okay Roran? You woke me up from my state of supposed unconsciousness."

"Sorry, cous'," Roran apologized sheepishly, then frowned again, saying, "About that unconsciousness..." but Eragon had already passed out, mumbling, "Roran, your marshmallow's on fire."

Roran glanced around in alarm, and shouted, "DANGIT! I THOUGHT I PUT THAT THING OUT!"

Angela huffed, and directed a group of Urgals to where they were going to put the basins of foaming, steaming water. The scruff maids giggled and whispered in excitement, slightly sounding like a cloth rubbing at a window pane.

Roran was still jumping around the camp, hollering about fiery marshmallows and the sort.

Angela rolled her eyes, and shot a glance towards the scruff maids, who went to the three travelers in a flurry of mops, rags and giggles. The ones carrying Orik unceremoniously dropped him into the tub, drawing paisley colored curtains around the unusually large basin.

The scruff maids carrying Arya carefully floated her to her own, lavender scented basin before lowering her gingerly in the tub. Arya's eyes flickered once, and she sighed, murmering, "Mommy, Arya want a purple pony..." before falling back to sleep, a smile on her lips. The scruff maids, whispering and giggling, closed the rainbow-decked-out privacy curtains.

Eragon was last to be hauled into his basin, which was fifty feet long and had at least ten feet of frothy bubbles covering the surface. The stench emanating from Eragon himself was incredible, and certain members of the Varden could pick out different scents wafting off him in waves, as if he was an ocean of stink: Urgals smelled rotting farmland and hot tallow vats, dwarves smelled the entire pile of Farthen Dur dung collecting on one man, a woman with her baby girl smelled an entire years' worth of diapers and a city rat smelled all aforementioned, plus a sewer.

In any case, that boy needed some DEODERANT!

Eragon's head lolled, and he smiled faintly, murmering, "Roran, am I in heaven?...No, no, in heaven they have golden toilet seats..."

The scruff maids giggled and with a HEAVE! And HO! And HEAVE! And HO!...they threw Eragon into the tub, and a giant downpour of water of water slopped out.

A shriek was heard as the scruff maids pulled Eragon's own tie-dyed curtains around the basin, and Eragon yelled, "WAIT! WHERE'S MISTER DUCKY! AHH—WAIT NO, THERE YOU ARE...SILLY DUCK..."

Angela, and several other more mature members of the Varden rolled their eyes so hard, they almost rolled them out of their heads. Angela sighed, and tapped her foot impatiently. Arya and Orik were carried out shortly, wrapped head to toe cocoon-style in large and fluffy Turkish bathrobes.

Although, how Alegaesians managed to get hold of _Turkish_ towels is still being questioned.

Angela exhaled, and took her new charges to a nurse station, where they lay on a cot, awaiting treatment.

And so the wait began...

Angela yawed...

Nasuada sneezed...

The dwarves played dice and lost a small fortune...

The Urgals practiced throwing their knives at a sack dummy that suspiciously looked like Galbatorix...

One hour went by...

Angela yawned...

Nasuada sneezed...

The dwarves played dice and lost a small fortune...

The Urgals practiced throwing their knives at a sack dummy that suspiciously looked like Galbatorix...

Two hours went by...

Angela yawned...

Nasuada sneezed...

The dwarves played dice and lost a small fortune...

The Urgals practiced throwing their knives at a sack dummy that suspiciously looked like Galbatorix...

And, the author got so tired of Déjà vu that she almost ran away in a hippie bus to Kansas...

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"WAHOOOO! WE'RE GOING TO KANSAS!" the authoress shouted, and the sister gave her a, 'you've got to be joking me', look. The authoress and the sister were in a very beat up, very antique, rather rusty 1970 VW that was crammed with travel supplies, fishing nets, and jars of pickle seeds, peanut butter & jelly, and bread.

The authoress honked the horn nine times and gave a loud _WHOOP!_ as a semi truck passed by. The truck driver slowed, and a man with five o'clock shadow, a trucker's cap, and a beer belly leaned out the window, somehow managing to keep his eyes on the road and holder at the same time, "HEY, LITTLE MISSY! AIN'T YOU A LIL' YOUNG TO BE DRIVIN' THAT CAR?"

The authoress grinned and yelled back, (although she fully knew that she was way under the legal driving age), "NO! AIN'T YOU A LIL' OLD TO BE DRIVIN' A SEMI?"

The truck driver grinned and said, "NONE OF YOUR SASS, MISS, ELSE I PICK UP THIS HANDY DANDY PHONE AND CALL THEM MOUNTIES!"

The authoress frowned at the sister, veering, (and almost causing another car to be knocked off the road), and then steered back so that she could talk over the wind, "MOUNTIES?"

"YEAH!" the truck driver said, and started singing, "OH CANADA..." then paused, and looked back at the authoress to find her looking at him as if saying, 'Go on! It doesn't matter if you didn't make the Venetian Boy's choir, you can still sing a national anthem!'

An uncomfortable silence ensued, then the authoress said, "WELL? AREN'T YA GONNA FINISH THE SONG?"

The truck driver scratched his chin unconsciously and said, "YA SEE, I DON' KNOW ANY MORE THAN THAT..."

"OF COURSE! WHO DOES?" said the authoress, grinning, then said something to the little sister, who got out of her seat and started rifling through the mass amounts of crud that littered the back of the VW. The authoress grabbed the object that she had requested from the sister, and put it in her lap.

The truck driver frowned heavily, scratching his head and adjusting his cap. The sister noticed, and leeringly, she called to the truck driver, "DON'T THINK TOO MUCH, YA MIGHT HURT YOUR BRAIN!"

The truck driver, looking mightily alarmed, called back, "I'LL TRY NOT TO, LIL' MISS!"

The authoress finally managed to unscrew the top off the jar that was in her lap, and opened it. The truck driver leaned closer to the window, curious, and the authoress grabbed one of the tiny objects inside.

Holding it out for the truck driver to see, the authoress grinned charmingly and said, "PICKLE SEED?"

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Finally, Eragon was carried from the tub, giggling and yelling, "I'M SO PRETTY! OH SO PRETTY! I'M SO PRETTY AND **CLEAN**!"

Nasuada and Angela bustled toward the temporary hospital that was Angela's tent, and started chatting nonchalantly about the weather and other unrelated topics.

"MURTAGH!" a voice shouted, coming from within the tent. Angela and Nasuada rushed in to find Eragon thrashing around in the bedsheets, twisting the covers underneath him.

"MURTAGH, DANGIT, GIT YOUR TAIL OVER HERE, YOU COWARDLY SCUM!" Eragon shouted again, and Nasuada giggled, stopping when Angela gave her a warning glance.

"MURTAGH!" Eragon said, a distracted mutter coming from the distorted ball of knots that were the bedsheets. Eragon finally stopped moving about and shot straight up in bed and bellowed.

"MURTAGH, STOP FEEDING SAPHIRA CUPCAKES! IT'S GIVING HER INDIGESTION!"

There was a pause...

Then an explosion of laughing from all sides of the Varden camp, Saphira roaring her mirth along with the rest.

But, what Eragon said next quite unsettled them all:

"GET THE EGG! IT'S SUSPENDED IN THE BLUE TOOTHPASTE!"

Angela and Nasuada froze, eyes wide. Angela frowned, remembering something that Solembum had told her. Eragon always had weird, cryptic dreams that foretold the future—visions that were unexplained by all who he asked for information. Could this be one of those visions? _Nah_, Angela thought, mentally dismissing the idea as she changed the sheets on Eragon's bed, _He's most likely hungry for some over-easy elf eggs and forgot to brush his teeth._

Nasuada resumed her once over of the temporary hospital, reassured that if Angela wasn't worried, neither should she be. There were three beds set against the back of the large bazaar like tent, which had three openings, or 'tentways', for people to traffic in and out. The flaps of the tent were rolled tightly and secured with a firm trucker's knot off to the side so that the travelers/victims could wake up to fresh air.

The sides of the tent, and the spaces in between the beds were crammed with bookcases, which in turn were stocked with various bottles corking potions and tattered books piled pell-mell in no absolute order. Angela seemed to be fairly comfortable in the hospital, as it was her tent originally and constructed later because the main infirmary was full.

Nasuada sighed, looked at the sky and said, distractedly, "When will they be up and about? I need them healed as soon as possible."

Angela's eyes twinkled, and she winked, replying, "Actually, Nasuada, I was just going to wake them now."

Nasuada looked confused for a bit, then Angela sighed, "Just give me a couple minutes or so, and they'll all be up and at 'em in no time!" and left the tent.

Nasuada looked around, looked back at the tent, then looked round again. With a final head movement, Nasuada shouted, "DANGIT, ANGELA! I'M NOT SOME SORT OF BABY-SITTER!"

Angela hurried back, with pot holders encasing her hands and a steaming, covered pot balanced on one knee, and said, "Well, dearie, they really aren't babies, you know—"

"THANK YOU—" Nasuada shouted, exasperated.

"—they're in fact—"

"—CAPTAIN—" Nasuada roared, clamping her hands over her ears.

"—one Rider, and elf, and a dwarf—"

"—OBVIOUS!" Nasuada finished, glaring at the witch, who was stirring the pot feverishly, sweat breaking out on her furrowed brow. Nasuada frowned, and walked behind Angela, taking slow steady steps as if not to alarm her, and said, "Hey Angela, whatcha cooking?"

Angela huffed, and pulled the pot away out of Nasuada's view, as if she were an artist and didn't want people peeking at the unfinished work before it was ready for the public eye. "Fine then, Mrs. Grumpi-Pants!" Nasuada harrumphed, and sat down on an over turned bucket smartly.

Angela shot her a glare, and continued stirring.

Nasuada tapped her foot.

Angela stirred.

Nasuada yawned.

Angela mopped the sweat breaking out on her brow, then continued stirring.

Nasuada checked her wrist, looking for a watch and finding none.

Angela stirred...

And stirred...

And stirred...

Then, finally...

"ANGELA, DANGIT! WILL YOU QUIT FUTZING AROUND WITH THE POT AND START BEING PRODUCTIVE HERE!" Nasuada gestured angrily around at the surrounding camp, "WE KINDA HAVE A WAR HERE, AND WE DON'T NEED TIME WASTERS COOKING—" here Nasuada paused, then leapt up to quickly examine what was in the pot.

Nasuada never finished her sentence.

Angela gave Nasuada an evil grin, watching as the ruler of the Varden yelped as if been burned, and took up a perch on top of one of the bookshelves, chest heaving and face white. Nasuada made the sign to ward off evil, and said shakily, "You—you keep that THING—AWAY from me—ya hear?"

Angela chuckled, and took the cover off the steaming pot.

Inside, was the:

Most horrid—

Most disgusting—

Most feared by every child who calls themselves a kid—

Most revolting—

Smelly—

Raw—

VEGETABLE; in the entire universe. This vegetable was so frightening, that parents who tucked their kids into bed wouldn't tell their kids about the Boogie Man and monsters under the bed and shadows in the closet—oh, no—the parents would tell their kids about this evil fiend instead.

This VEGETABLE could cause nuclear wars for picky eaters everywhere.

This VEGETABLE could never die.

(DIE, DANGIT, DIE!)

This VEGETABLE that stewed in Angela's cooking pot—

Was—

An—

Enormous—

BRUSSEL SPROUT.

Nasuada screamed, and even Angela flinched slightly, then tossed something unseen to Nasuada at Nasuada, so Nasuada was hit in the forehead with it.

"OW! DANGIT, ANGELA—" Nasuada started, eyes watering.

"—you see, Nasuada, I am wearing a pair of—" here Angela mouthed the words: _invisible nose plugs_, "—so that the smell does not bother me."

Nasuada looked confused, and started, "Why can't you say the words—"

"—SHUDDAP NASUADA! IT MIGHT HEAR YOU!" Angela shouted, clearly alarmed. Nasuada shut her trap with a _snap!_, and fumbled for the _invisible nose plugs_ that Angela had tossed her, shoving them up both nostrils frantically.

Angela looked at Nasuada, amazed, "Nasuada, are you picking your nose?"

"WHAT?" Nausada shouted, riled, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

"It's okay, Nasuada, we all have our quirks," soothed Angela.

"BUT I DON'T PICK MY NOSE!" Nasuada screamed, then said more calmly, "I was just putting the—" here Nasuada mouthed the words _invisible nose plugs, "—_in."

Angela smiled benignly, and said, winking, "SURE you did Nasuada."

Nasuada glared, and Angela chuckled, saying, "It is time."

"Time?" Nasuada asked.

"TIME?" shouted the Mad Hatter from Alice and Wonderland.

"TIME?" shrieked the March Hare, gleefully.

"TIME?" piped the dormouse, and ran squeakily to and for, hiccupping all over the Varden camp, where it was chased by the Mad Hatter who was holding a giant sledge hammer, and the March Hare, who was pocketing a large watch.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" wailed the White Rabbit, and Angela said, "You know, dearie, repeating something won't make the point any clearer—"

"—NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! THAT WAS MY GRANDFATHER'S BEST WATCH!" sobbed the White Rabbit, stumbling blindly to the spot where the Mad Hatter had his sledge hammer raised above the said watch, with the March Hare nearby, holding the dormouse in clenched fingers.

"LOOK DINA!" squealed Alice, "IT'S THE WHITE RABBIT!"

"And a very merry Un-birthday to you too!" Angela muttered, distracted, then Nasuada suggested tentatively, "Time for what?"

"CLEAN CUP, CLEAN CUP! MOVE **DOWN**!" bawled the Mad Hatter, who was swinging Alice by her ankles around and around.

"YES! THANK YOU DISNEY, NOW **_SHUDDAP_**!" barked Nasuada, who was faintly steaming around the ears, and thought, _Really though, time for what?_

Angela and Nasuada went over to Orik's bed, giggling slightly like little girls about to attempt their first sleepover prank, and uncovered the pot-coverer, and held the pot up to Orik's face.

Orik snored on, seemingly in a deep slumber.

Nasuada and Angela exchanged worried glances, then held the pot closer so that the pungent stench of brussel sprouts wafted right up Orik's left nostril. Orik's nose twitched, then gave an audible SNIFF! Orik snorted, and coughed up a luggie, closed eyes streaming. Orik opened one watering eyelid, gave a look at the pot of brussel sprouts, and his eyes widened. Orik leapt up, screaming an ancient war cry and grabbing his sword slashing at invisible behemoths.

Nasuada collapsed into laughter, chortling at the ridiculous expression on Orik's face. Orik looked around, and seeing no great fiends, sheathed his sword and bellowed, "GADZOOKS! WHAT WAS THAT?"

Nasuada, still giggling, said, "Brussel sprouts."

Orik's left eye twitched, and he muttered uneasily, backing slightly away from the open pot, "Hmph, keep those things away from me!"

Nasuada nodded, "Glad you and I see eye to eye."

Orik wrinkled his brow, confused, "WAIT A MINUTE! You're a foot and a half taller than me!"

Nasuada rolled her eyes, walking with Angela over to Arya's bedside, "Jeesh, Orik; it's just an expression."

Orik blanched, "EXPRESSION! You mean like hugs and crying and sweaters and goo-goo stuff and TALKING ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS?" Orik shuddered.

Nasuada said irritably, "No, you twit, now SHUDDAP!" and directed the smell of brussel sprouts towards Arya.

Arya's reaction happened a little sooner than Orik's: she jumped on top of the bed and screamed, "AHHH! BRUSSEL SPROUTS!" Arya then grabbed her bow and strung it, aiming it at the pot and muttered darkly, "Prepare...to be...**ANNIHILATED**!"

"ARYA, STOP!" Nasuada managed to shout weakly, as she had started hiccupping. "We need the brussel sprouts for Eragon."

Arya grinned an evil grin, and even Orik had a matching sneaky smirk of his own as the four crept lightly over to Eragon's bedside, where he was muttering something about, 'don't cover the toast with bees-wax, you dumb nut! Cover the toast with BUTTER, DANGIT!'

"One..." Arya said, taking a position at the right of Eragon's bed.

"Two..." Orik chimed in, choosing to watch at the foot of Eragon's bed.

"Three..." Angela whispered, bringing the pot closer under Eragon's nose.

"Schfifty-five..." mouthed Nasuada excitedly.

It didn't even take a nano-second for Eragon to realize what foul vegetable was being pushed under his nose. He was wide awake the moment the rank waft of brussel sprouts reached his nose. Eragon shouted, "AYYYYY-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SAPHIRA! LOCKDOWN DRILL NUMBER FORTY-TWO!" and fell out of bed in a tangle of tie-dyed sheets.

_I'm on it, _boomed a voice surprisingly nearby. Angela, Arya, Nasuada, and Orik all turned around and merely watched with half-shock, half-hysterics, (brussel sprouts can be a laughing matter when you are not their target), as Saphira neatly hooked the pot handle with her claw. Tipping it upside-down, Saphira watched suspiciously as the brussel sprouts plopped into the dirt, then, with a loud, **_RAWR!_** Saphira burnt those wicked, long-smelling vegetables to a crisp—then ashes.

There was a silence, then a nervous chuckle, followed by a chortle, followed by a guffaw, followed by insane laughter that ricocheted off the trees and tents in the Varden camp. The laughter was cut off when a muffled voice yelled, "DANGIT! GET THESE SHEETS OFF—OF—ME—DANGIT!" Orik rushed over to help Eragon out of the twist of brightly dyed cotton, and clapped him on the back, saying, "So, Eragon, how do ya feel?"

Eragon glared, and it was such a funny attempt at an evil death look that Angela, Arya and Nasuada burst into helpless giggles.

Orik made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like an incredulous chuckle, but covered it up by a cough, and grinned at Eragon.

"Evil no-good fiends...must DIE...mutant vegetables..." Eragon muttered, and walked off to visit Saphira as the traveling trio went their separate ways. Nasuada sighed, and leaned back against a post holding up the tent, and frowned, commenting to Angela—who was bustling around her tent trying to make it less crowded—"No, seriously, what exactly is it time for?"

"TEA TIME!" crowed Angela, laughing at the shocked expression on Nasuada's face, and asked, "Jasmine or Chamomile?"

Nasuada huffed, and stalked off to her tent.

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Later...

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"HEY ARYA!" A cheerful voice called, and Arya turned around, grinning slightly.

"Hello, Eragon. How was your recovery?" Arya inquired cordially.

"Scary," Eragon said, remembering the furious scruff maids, (they were rather mad near the end of his cleaning, squeaking, "I'm never cleaning this much filth in my life again!"), and the evil pile of cooked brussel sprouts.

"Mine too," Arya said, also remembering the scent of the devilish vegetables.

"Hey Arya," Eragon said again, and started bouncing up and down in a state of excitement.

"Yes?"

"Guess what I is?"

"Err..." Arya broke off, thinking, _Where is he going with this bad grammer?_

Suddenly, Eragon broke into song, a melodious number with a spirited rhythm.

"_I got soul, but I'm not a soldier. I got soul, but I'm not a soldier—"_ Eragon sang, but was broken off by Arya.

"Eragon, that doesn't make any sense. Of COURSE you have a soul, AND you're a soldier."

"REALLY?" Eragon said, amazed, "Prove it."

Arya ticked off things on her fingers, "Well, let's see...you have a sword—"

"—used to, you mean—"

"WHATEVER!" Arya continued, "And, you have a full suit of armor, AND you fought in the most recent battle on the Burning Plains—"

"—which still have a drainage problem—" Eragon noted.

"—which was ENTIRELY your fault," Arya pointed out.

"WHATEVER!" came the pouting reply.

"And, if you need any more proof, you dodge arrows with the speed of a fully trained elf, and you duck under axe swings—"

"—_GET LOW! Get low, get low, get low—" _Eragon interrupted cheerfully.

"—Eragon, please just—"

"—_STOP! Collaborate and LISTEN! Ice is back with a brand new invention!" _Eragon rapped, then looked at Arya, who was tapping her foot, and raising her eyebrow, so he continued, "_Something grabs a hold of me tightly—"_

"—That wouldn't be Fuzzy Thing, now would it?—" Arya said, referring to Eragon's favorite childhood stuffed animal, (which happened to be a VERY fuzzy, VERY worn, RATHER cute, DRAGON.)

Eragon glared, and rapped again, "—_flow like a hawk through daily and nightly—"_

"—WILL IT EVER STOP!—" Arya said, wincing at Eragon's bad rapping skills.

"—_Yo! I don't know! Turn off the lights—"_

"—and you'll ask for a nightlight—" Arya muttered, and Eragon stopped.

"Hey, you don't like the cold and dark either!" Eragon retorted, then was lit with sudden inspiration and he sang, "_It's a **DANG** COLD NIGHT!—"_

"Eragon, have you taken something strange?" Arya said, suspicious now.

"_LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS!" _Eragon shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing funny stares from various onlookers.

"Well, maybe not THAT potent—"Arya started, worried.

"—_I like BEER! It makes me a jolly good fellow, oh I like BEER! It helps me unwind, and sometimes it makes me feel mellow!" _Eragon sang, and the Varden chorused, "_Makes him feel ME-EH-EHLLO!"_

"I think Orik's the only one who really...um..._appreciates_ beer that much..." Arya said.

"_We are all on drugs, YEAH! Give me some of that stuff, WOO!" _Eragon sang again, in a totally different voice from before.

"Maybe," Arya said, looking at Orik who was tenderly holding a bottle of Jack Daniels' in his arms, and said, "And maybe you should take singing less—"

"—_Is this more than you bargained for and, I'VE been DYING to tell you anything you want to hear—" _

"—Give me a SIGN, PLEASE!—THAT HE WILL SHUT-UP!" Arya mock-begged, slightly annoyed and slightly amused.

"—_Sign, Sign! Everywhere a sign—" _Eragon sang, so full of himself that he actually started skipping a circle around Arya.

"—Eragon, you—"

"—_ain' nuthin' but a HOUND DOG!—" _Eragon howled, wagging his tail like a puppy, and shaking his pelvis, (like Elvis! ).

Arya winced again, averting her eyes from Eragon's pathetic attempt at a hip "shake". It looked quite ridiculous, and to top it off, his pants were starting to fall down. Arya made a face and said, "Eragon, PULL YOUR NASTY DRAWERS UP, DANGIT! YOU'RE A **RIDER** FOR GOODNESS SAKE!"

Eragon blushed and hitched his pants up higher, singing in a deep voice, "_Low Ri-dur, get a little higher!"_

"Please, please, I'm too OLD for this!" Arya begged, and winked at Angela, who was standing by.

Eragon did a back flip and sang, "—Golden years!—"

Arya moaned and covered her face, smiling in between fingers, "Eragon, I swear, I'll ask Angela to put frogs in your bed—"

With this, Eragon belted out, "—_JEREMIAH WAS A BULLFROG_!—"

And the Varden sang, "_Duh, na, na_!"

"—_WAS A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE_!" Eragon bellowed, and Arya started cracking up, her stony demeanor melting along with the music.

The Varden sang, "_Duh, na, na_!"

"—_NEVER UNDERSTOOD A SINGLE WORD HE SAID, BUT I HELPED HIM DRINK HIS WINE_!—" Eragon shouted, and the Varden, including Arya and got in a circle and started doing a sort of version of can-can dancing in a circle around Orik, who was shaking out the last drops of Jack Daniel's onto the ground.

Orik mumbled absently, "And boy, that was a mighty find wine..."

All the people dancing sang, and the circle grew with voices and laughter:

"_JOY TO THE WORLD!_

_ALL THE BOYS AND GIRLS!_

_JOY TO THE FISHES IN THE DEEP BLUE SEE—_

_--OH—_

_--JOY TO YOU AND ME!"_

The great circle of dancers dissipated as the high foot kicking Varden collapsed into helpless hilarity.

Arya and Eragon fell on the ground, then both tried to get back up again, and failed to do so. Laughing hysterically, they managed to clasp their arms around the other's shoulders and stumble to their feet over to Angela.

Arya wiped tears from her eyes. Angela walked over to Eragon and wordlessly handed him a dead frog. Eragon laughed, and took off, chasing Roran with the frog and screaming, "FROG COOTIES! FROG COOTIES! FROG COOTIES! FROG COOTIES!"

Roran, who was fleeing for his life, was shouting just as loud, "EW! EW! EW! GERMS! INFECTION! DISEASE! GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME! EW! EW! EW!"

Arya laughed and smiled at Angela, who was grinning in a benign sort of way, watching the two cousins.

"So, Arya," Angela said casually.

"Yes?" Arya said, still watching Eragon and Roran, along with the rest of the Varden, who were grumpily picking themselves up and getting ready for night watches.

"How'd you and Eragon get to be so close?" Angela said curiously, eagerly awaiting Arya's reaction.

Arya laughed again, and then did something unexpected. She grabbed one of the dead frogs hanging on a string from Angela's belt, and started chasing after Eragon, yelling, "I'VE GOT YOU NOW!"

Eragon and Roran did a double take, then ran for their lives—screaming like sissies.

Turning back, still chasing Eragon, she called to Angela, "I guess that's the confusion of a rock."

The trio, shrieking and screaming, ran off into the sunset; and Angela chuckled and went back to her tent, with Solembum purring alongside her.

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**And so all things come to a close: all things chaotic...**

**Delirious...**

**Hopelessly insane...**

**And made of pickle seeds...**

**And...**

**_The Confusion of a Rock..._**

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_**THE END**_

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End file.
